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THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 





Ghe Weight of a Word 


ADDRESSES ON 
SOME OF LIFE’S GREAT ISSUES 










\By 
JAMES L’ GORDON, D.D. 


Minister, First Congregational Church, 
San Francisco, California 


Author of “All’s Love Yet All’s Law,” etc. 










New York 


Fleming H. Revell Company 


London and Edinburgh 


Chicago 









Copyright, McMxxv, by 
FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY 


Printed in the United States of America 


New York: 158 Fifth Avenue 
Chicago: 17 North Wabash Ave. 
London: 21 Paternoster Square 
Edinburgh: 75 Princes Street 


Pretace 


has an entire population of two million 

souls. Situated on the edge of a conti- 
nent, and also on the edge of a sea—the last sea of 
history—San Francisco is a turning point for tour- 
ists and travelers. 

The church over which the author presides is 
surrounded by four hundred hotels, varying in size 
and equipment. Just beyond these hostelries there 
exists an encircling fringe of splendid apartment 
houses. 

This church is in the “ down-town” district, 
where the population is very largely transient. 
There is a fifty per cent. change in the personnel 
of the congregation weekly. Many who hear the 
preacher today will be a thousand miles away to- 
morrow. A reputation for strong preaching is of 
small value when most of your parishioners arrive 

/on the last train and depart according to the 
railroad schedule. 

The secret of success in such a field is to catch 
one’s audience ‘‘ on the wing.” How shall one in- 
terest the passing procession? “ Interest ” is the 
key word to the success of a sermon, a novel, or a 


5 





6 PREFACE 


drama. The key to the popular mood of thought 
is to be found in current literature—the newspaper, 
the magazine, and the latest book. Find out what 
folks are reading about and you will learn what 
they are thinking about. | 

So we prepare and present a program suggested 
by the popular mood, covering sermon topics, 
“question drawer,” current events class, dramatic 
productions, and studies in applied psychology. 
This program attracts an aggregate weekly attend- 
ance of eight thousand persons. 

In this book are presented fourteen Sabbath 
morning discourses. They were listened to by an 
average attendance of eighteen hundred. In each 
case the human quality of the audience was more 
than fifty per cent. masculine. Moreover: with a 
view to an avoidance of complexity, each address, 
although dealing with some of life’s chief concerns, 
has been given a title consisting of a single name. 
Hence the explanation and significance of the title 
of this volume—‘ The Weight of a Word.” In 
each instance a vital subject is dealt with and ends 
with a definite appeal. 

I dedicate this volume to thousands of preachers 
who are heroically facing and seeking to solve the 
same problems which confront us here in San 
Francisco. 

PGs 


San Francisco, Calif. 


Contents 


. ORGANIZATION 
. ART. 

. GREATNESS 

. HAPPINESS 

. CONSCIENCE . 
. THEOSOPHY . 
. Books 

. ELOQUENCE 

. PREACHING 

. SACRAMENTS . 
. HYMNOLOGY . 
. ASTROLOGY 

. WorRY 


. YOUTH 


11 
21 
31 
A5 
53 
61 
71 
91 


} 107 
. 125 
141 
. 149 
. 159 
Ney 





I 


ORGANIZATION 





I 
ORGANIZATION 


y HE difference between ten thousand 
ec » zephyrs floating dreamily over the 
f ue sleeping landscape, and browsing lan- 
x <2, guidly beneath the burning sun—and 
pai black-browed, angry-spirited, lightning- 
clad, and thunder-shod cyclone—is organization. 
When zephyring winds find a common center, a 
proper point for the focalization of power, prepare 
for a cyclone. When the spirits of the north wind 
go forth to war, they organize the mist into ocean 
drops, and ocean drops into crystal bullets. A 
snowflake is small, but the wildest whirlwind that 
ever blew could not organize a snowstorm without 
flakes. Each snowflake counts. 

In union there is strength. But the strength of 
a union depends upon the strength of the unit. It 
has always been difficult to organize common 
poverty into common wealth. Death has never 
been organized into life, nor darkness into light, 
nor stupidity into brilliancy. There are some men 
who “ don’t enthuse,” and some things that wont 
evolve. Ten fools can never be organized into one 
philosopher. Ten idiots will not furnish brain- 


11 





12 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


matter sufficient for one bright intellect. One 
thousand cords make a cable, but one thousand 
circles of mist make a fog-bank. 

The quality of an organization depends upon 
the vitality of the individual member. “ One” 
shall “chase a thousand and two put ten thou- 
sand to flight,” but number two must equal 
number one in strength and caliber, or the result 
will not be as encouraging as has been prophesied. 
Organize an army of cowards and you will have an 
army of cowardice. Organize an army of weak- 
lings and you will have an army of weakness. No 
society is stronger than the average strength of 
the average member. 

The danger of an organization is that it may 
prove to be a hiding place for lazy men, instead of 
a beehive of those who are laboring for men. 
Life members are not always live members. Ac- 
tive members are sometimes inactive. Standing 
committees are often found comfortably sitting. 
Sustaining members are sometimes fit illustrations 
of suspended animation. 

Every true organization exists in order to rec- 
ognize and utilize the peculiar strength of each 
individual who has contributed the unit of his per- 
sonality to the organization of which he is a mem- 
ber. A man loses himself in an organization in 
order that he may more thoroughly find himself. 
He gratefully gives his strength in order that he 
may greatly gather strength. Each gives and each 


ORGANIZATION 13 


gains. Men organize for the purpose of accom- 
plishing that which they cannot at all, or cannot so 
well accomplish as individuals. Isolation—a cas- 
tle, with turret wall, moated gate, drawbridge and 
portholes—means seventy-five per cent. defence. 
Society means a wall about all. 

It is said that an American has a genius for 
organization. Whenever the safety of the com- 
munity, the commonwealth, or the country is 
in any way threatened, there are four favored 
remedies to which he immediately resorts, viz.: 
(1) He holds a meeting. (2) He calls a conven- 
tion. (3) He appoints a committee. (4) He or- 
ganizes an association. Asa result of this national 
predisposition to organize we have an abundance, 
if not a surplus of organizations. Organizations 
innumerable! Corporations, associations, institu- 
tions, committees, auxiliaries, clubs, lodges, orders, 
guilds, circles, brotherhoods, sisterhoods, and so 
on, world without end! 

And so it happens that most business men have 
more “ meetings” to attend than most business 
men ought to have. He must be a very poor, un- 
known, unsocial, and unorganized specimen of hu- 
manity who does not “‘ belong ” to something. The 
“all-around ” man must be evolved into a man 
who is always around, otherwise there will not be 
enough of the gray granite of humanity out of 
which to quarry a quorum. The hero who shall 
successfully organize an anti-organization society 


14 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


should be garlanded with glory and robed with 
immortality; although it must be evident to every 
thoughtful observer that such an organization 
would be a paradox at birth, a contradiction at 
best, and an organized inconsistency from first 
to last. 

There is an old proverb, (and by this repetition 
we desire to consign it to the shelf, or to relegate it 
to the past, or add it, as the latest acquisition, to 
our infant accumulation of ancient history) to the 
effect that when three full-blooded Americans 
gather together on a railroad train they immedi- 
ately organize. A constitution and by-laws are at 
once adopted, in which it is clearly indicated that 
there are to be at least three officers, namely: 
president, secretary and treasurer; and that these 
three shall comprise the executive board. By this 
arrangement each man has an office; an ambition 
which is supposed to be lurking secretly in the 
bosom of every American citizen. 

Even though the American Brotherhood of Or- 
ganizers meet and resolve that the impossible shall 
be resolved into the realm of the possible, they 
feel decidedly better after the resolution has been 
safely railroaded through. They may practically 
imitate the action of a certain committee appointed 
to build a new county jail. The committee met 
and voted unanimously to adopt the following 
threefold resolution: “ First: Resolved, That we 
build a new jail. Second: Resolved, That we build 


ORGANIZATION 15 





the new jail out of the materials which compose 
the old jail. Third: Resolved, That we keep the 
prisoners in the old jail while the new jail is being 
built.”” Doubtless the members of this committee 
retired from the scene of their deliberations with 
the inward consciousness that “‘ something ” had 
“been done,” and that they had ‘had a hand 
in }1t.%" 

You can get most people to go to a convention a 
great deal easier than you can get them to go to 
work. What convening, conferring, referring, and 
deferring! Many committees are committing the 
sin of pooling personal responsibility and giving a 
long-time note on their own individual share of it. 
The sin of omission is the besetting sin of the 
omnipresent committee. Interment in a cemetery 
and referment to a committee sound strangely 
alike. Many an important piece of work, referred 
to a committee, has served an indefinite term of 
close confinement from anything suggestive of hard 
labor on the part of an impenitent committee. 

Train up a committee in the way it should go— 
and away it goes. With all due respect to the av- 
erage committeeman, I would rather train up three 
children than take in hand the development of the 
average committee composed of three or more per- 
sons. JI know nothing whatever about the training 
of children, but I have reason to believe that two 
children out of three might be found somewhere in 
the neighborhood when they were wanted. About 


16 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


as sure as a committee secures its commission to 
go, it is sure to stop going and commit the sin of 
omission. The best committee may not be the 
committee of one member, but the best committee 
depends on some one member. If you doubt 
this, take the keystone out of the arch and in the 
words of the brother of sombre hue, “ something 
will drap.” 

The most famous committee of Old Testament 
times, like most committees organized on the prin- 
ciple of representation, instead of personal qualifi- 
cation, decided “that nothing could be done.” 
Ten men who would not do anything, voted that 
two men who would like to do something, should 
not do what they would like to do. Those wilder- 
ness backsliders were bone of our bone and flesh 
of our flesh. 

A vital question for me to answer is this: When 
I step into an organization, does it average up, or 
does it average down? If the average is lower, it 
does not necessarily follow that I have gained 
anything because the organization has suffered a 
loss. The breaking of the camel’s back does not 
necessarily save the last straw which broke the > 
back of the camel. | 

The best constructed piece of machinery in the 
world is—a man. The best plan demands a man. 
An organ to grind needs a Roman to grind it. The 
street corner peanut stand needs the supervision 
of a soul made in the image of the infinite. The 


ORGANIZATION 17 


most powerful organization in the world today is 
the organization of a clean conscience, a clear 
brain, a warm heart, two vigorous lungs, an un- 
complaining digestive apparatus, steady nerves, 
_and an even temper; these seven, swinging in har- 
mony with the best constitution and by-laws ever 
yet produced,—a human anatomy, robed in flesh 
and crowned with light. 

A poor plan with a powerful personality behind 
it means more than a splendid plan with poor pro- 
pelling power in the rear. Let us have the splendid 
plan wrapped up in the personality of a splendid 
specimen of a man. Let the emphasis be on the 
man; “the moving creature, which hath life.” 
Have your work well planned—your plan well 
manned—your man clear-brained—and all God- 
sustained. 

Christianity had a peculiarly masculine caste 
when it began its work. Jesus was a young man. 
He had twelve young men in His cabinet. The 
first attempt at organization was based on that 
mysterious number “thirteen.” Jesus and His 
disciples numbered exactly “ thirteen,” and when 
Judas died they proceeded to elect another. 

Jesus Christ never seemed anxious to create or 
promote a colossal organization. Nobody ever had 
a better opportunity to stamp His individuality 
upon an institution, or to focalize the power of His 
personality in an organization. He refused to be 
crowned a king among men. Though surrounded 


18 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


by multitudes He emphasized anl placed a pre- 
mium upon the ‘two or three” who should 
gather together in His name. When He became 
popular with men He “ seasoned his conversation 
with salt’? and thinned out His congregations. 
Gideon-like, he reduces the three thousand to three 
hundred. He spent three years stamping His indi- 
viduality upon twelve men. Out of twelve there 
were three who received special attention. Among 
the three there was one ‘‘ whom Jesus loved.” 

It is a poor organization which has not in itself 
an inherent tendency to grow rich. Every organ- 
ization fails as rapidly and as certainly as it suc- 
ceeds. The church organized to reach the poor 
will grow rich in reaching the poor, and the poor 
when reached will become enriched, and as surely 
as the church does its work successfully, so surely 
will it unfit itself for its original work and mission 
to the unreached poor and the poor unreached. 

The children of the ignorantly rich become the 
parents of the elegantly rich; the hater of the aris- 
tocrat becomes the head of an aristocracy. 

The church organized to reach the poor grows 
rich while reaching the poor, and fails because of 
its very success. Rich in purse and not altogether 
poor in spirit, but the purse is delegated to do what 
the rich person and the person rich in spirit should 
do, and God must needs call forth a new body of 
workers. 


II 


ART 


td PAs 
TU is Aa eS 
Vga 





II 


ART 







re OHN RUSKIN once said, “Live on 
Py bread and water, but see the Vatican.” 
x ‘) The Vatican—the world’s most fa- 
S29 mous art gallery! 

The Vatican covers thirteen acres. It has 
twenty magnificent courts. These courts lead to 
one thousand distinct apartments. Many of the 
most famous masterpieces of the world are to be 
found in the Vatican. 

The Roman Catholic Church has sought to make 
religion attractive by the aid of architecture, 
music, sculpture, tapestry, mosaic, bronze, won- 
ders of stained glass, and the ancient glory of the 
antique. Among these treasures are to be found 
relics from ancient Rome, Greece, Egypt, Babylon, 
and Assyria. In the Vatican every piece is a 
masterpiece. 

In the Vatican are to be found gifts and 
treasures from kings, emperors, monarchs, dukes, 
princes, presidents, sovereigns, and men of genius: 
gold, silver, jewels, carvings, statuary, portraits, 
tapestries, bronzes, and every work of art. 

The Sistine Chapel is the world’s throne-room 


21 


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ofA me Sy Y 
seat AL 
) 


4 






22 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


of art. This room has been made immortal by the 
genius of Michelangelo. The room itself is one of 
the great art treasures of the world. Upon its 
walls and ceilings is to be found history’s greatest 
monument to the genius of Michelangelo as an 
artist—although he was much more than an artist. 
At one end of the Sistine Chapel is to be found 
that famous painting, ‘The Last Judgment,” 
which would be sufficient in and of itself to crown 
the artist with the title of genius. 

Pope Julius II commanded the services of 
Michelangelo for the decoration of the Sistine 
Chapel. When Michelangelo began his noble work 
he was a young man thirty-four years of age. He 
devoted four years of his life without interruption 
to this work of decorating the walls of the Sistine 
Chapel. Herein he found a vast area of ten thou- 
sand square feet to be covered with design and 
color. Standing within this throne-room of the 
world’s art we note the outlines of three hundred 
and forty-three principal characters, to say nothing 
of the subsidiary personalities whose faces and 
forms are all inwrought on the walls of the chapel. 
For solidity, mass, weight, stability, and poise, no 
one approached Michelangelo. Here we have the 
simple line and bold surface. 

In the Vatican are five kinds of pictures. First, 
pictures by certain masters. Second, pictures of 
certain schools. Third, masterpieces enthroned by 
a universal reputation. Fourth, pictures which 


ART 23 


have been made famous by accident. Fifth, 
pictures—famous or non-famous, which simply 
pleased us—pictures which appealed to our imagi- 
nation and sensibility. 

By what standard shall we judge and measure 
art as to its intrinsic value and lasting greatness? 
That is a great question. The best answer which 
I have discovered to that interrogation is given to 
us by Symonds, the art critic. I quote his words: 
‘“‘ The greatest art is the art which gives the great- 
est measure of satisfaction to the greatest number 
of human beings, throughout the greatest length 
of time.” 

Here in the Vatican we find many of the world’s 
famous masterpieces—pictures which have stood 
the test of time. Taine, the French philosopher, 
once said: “‘ There are four men in the world of 
art and literature so exalted above all others as to 
seem to belong to another race. They are Dante, 
Shakespeare, Beethoven, and Michelangelo.”’ 

Oh, the vastness of art! Miles of canvas. Acres 
of pictures. Galleries of Rome. Galleries of 
Venice. Galleries of Florence. Galleries of Pisa. 
Galleries of Genoa. Galleries of Paris. Galleries 
of Munich. Galleries of Vienna. Galleries of 
Antwerp. 

In the house of Michelangelo in Florence, having 
visited room after room occupied and used by this 
immortal genius, I found volume after volume of 
unfinished and undeveloped drawings, outlines, 


24: THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


diagrams, and other prophetic suggestions of an 
artistic character. 

Yet, notwithstanding the vastness of art as it is 
seen in Italy and Europe, there are only a few 
great names to conjure with—names which shine 
like lonely stars in the vast firmament of human 
achievement; lonely names that shine there ever- 
lastingly—Michelangelo, Raphael, Rubens, Reni, 
Titian, Tintoretto, Bellini, Van Dyck, Da Vinci, 
Rembrandt, Correggio, Veronese, Velasquez, Hol- 
bein, Murillo, and Sir Joshua Reynolds. 

Artists specialize in their work and every genius 
flings himself into his picture. For instance, we 
go to Rubens for color, to Titian for grandeur, to 
Rembrandt for mastery and sympathy, to Raphael 
for perfection of drawing, to Correggio for effective 
light and shadow, to Tintoretto for the dramatic, 
and to Michelangelo for grandeur of conception. 

In every European art gallery there are to be 
found three classes of people: First, throngs of 
visitors; second, employed guards; and third, stu- 
dents copying masterpieces. 

What “ schools ” of art we found in all of these 
galleries! The Flemish School, the Italian School, 
the Dutch School, the German School, the French 
School, the English School, the Venetian School, 
the Florentine School. Iam informed that the gen- 
lus of art is now lending itself to the development 
of that which will be known as the World School— 
a World School of Art! If we are destined to pos- 


ART 25 


sess a World School of Art, then be it known unto 
all that the time is not far distant when we shall 
enjoy all the advantages and privileges of World 
commerce, World politics, World music, World 
patriotism—and a World Religion! All things 
tend to become cosmopolitan, international, world- 
wide, and universal. 

What marvelous laws are enthroned in pictorial 
art—The Law of the Center. The Law of Color. 
The Law of Light. The Law of Design. The Law 
of Detail. The Law of Perspective. The Law of 
Atmosphere. The Law of Selection. The Law of 
Exclusion. The artist is not the only genius whose 
success depends on knowing just what to omit. 
The Law of Exclusion is a great law. Many 
preachers would achieve a larger measure of suc- 
cess if they knew what to omit. 

There are said to be seven laws by which a paint- 
ing may be judged: “‘(1) the Law of Conception— 
calling for ability on the part of the artist to ex- 
press his vision, dream, idea, intellectual concep- 
tion and mental picture—just what he is trying to 
say to you; (2) the Law of Concentration—that 
everything in a picture be consistent with the ar- 
tistic design; (3) the Law of Harmony—requiring 
that all parts of a picture agree: (4) the Law of 
Contrast—demanding that the shadow emphasize 
the light and the light emphasize the shadow; (5) 
the Law of Completeness—requiring that every 
artistic detail be worthy of the artist; (6) the Law 


26 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


of Comprehensiveness—demanding that no impor- 
tant thing be omitted—variety; (7) the Law of 
Sensibility—calling for the revelation of a soul—a 
sympathetic soul.” 

The highest type of art is dominated by a certain 
spiritual quality. In every square inch of canvas 
covered by the hand of Turner there exists an eter- 
nal quality. He had the artist’s vision. It is the 
business of the artist to bring to our attention the 
things which we do not discover by a casual re- 
view of nature and life, just as it is the business 
of the preacher to emphasize vital but long- 
forgotten truths. 

x x x * 

I noted as I passed through the art galleries of 
Europe that the religious paintings seemed to pre- 
dominate. Bible stories, incidents, and events 
were to be found in a vast majority. It seemed to 
me that I could say to myself: ‘‘ Here I find the 
whole of the Bible, from cover to cover.” Bible 
stories cut in marble, built in bronze, portrayed on 
canvas, woven into tapestries, framed in gold, 
illuminated by mosaics, glorified in colored glass, 
and enacted in pictured sacred pilgrimages. 

Bible scenes hold the center of the historic stage 
in the Vatican and in all the art galleries of Europe. 
‘The Adoration of the Wise Men,” ‘‘ The Adora- 
tion of the Shepherds,” ‘“ The Pilgrims of Em- 
maus,” ‘‘ The Madonna and the Child,” ‘“ The 
Resurrection,” “‘ The Marriage at Cana of Gali- 


ART 27 


lee,” ‘‘ The Descent from the Cross,” “ The Holy 
Family,” ‘“‘ The Last Judgment,” “‘ The Raising of 
Lazarus,” ‘‘ The Transfiguration,” ‘“ The Sermon 
on the Mount,” and ‘“ The Crucifixion.” 
_ There were two facts which impressed me pro- 
foundly as I passed from art gallery to art 
gallery—two facts which have to do with the 
religious life of the world. First, no artist has 
yet produced an exactly satisfactory face of the 
Christ; and second, “The Crucifixion” is the 
climax of all pictorial art. 

“The Crucifixion ” is history’s enthroned pic- 
ture. This picture has been written into history, 
carved into stone, turned into mosaic, woven into 
tapestry, breathed into poetry, transmuted into 
color, and burned into the human imagination. 

In “ The Crucifixion ” I find a finished picture— 
history’s perfect picture, and well worthy of the 
final tragical utterances of the Christ, “It is 
finished! ” 

In the picture of ‘ The Crucifixion ” the Cross is 
the absolute center. Every great picture has a 
center, and the Cross is the center of the portrayal 
of the Crucifixion. In every great picture every- 
thing means something and the center means 
everything. The Cross is central! 

In this picture of the Crucifixion the Law of 
Color is enthroned in a startling fashion. William 
Morris affirmed that the greatest ambition of his 
life was to produce a perfect blue. “I hope,” he 


28 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


said, “‘ to make a perfect blue.” Here in this won- 
derful picture of the Crucifixion we find a perfect 
red—the red river of redemption. 

Have you ever stood in the great cathedral of 
Antwerp? Just outside, in the square, you will 
find a figure of Rubens in bronze—he is the art 
hero of Antwerp—and as you enter the Cathedral 
you will be permitted to gaze on that immortal pic- 
ture of Rubens entitled, “The Descent from the 
Cross.” It is said that on one cold evening in 
November, when the custodians of the Cathedral 
were about to close the edifice for the night, they 
found one poor wanderer seated in the Cathedral 
gazing upon this famous painting. This poor fel- 
low had been fascinated and entranced by the sight 
of the tender-hearted disciples lowering the body 
of Christ from the Cross, and with the “ three 
Marys ” waiting patiently to receive the form of 
the crucified One as it was being lowered and 
gradually wound round about with the prepared 
garments of death. To the poor fellow, sitting 
yonder in the aisle, the picture had seemed to take 
on all the living forms of real life, so when the 
custodians of the temple warned him that the hour 
had come for all worshippers to leave the place, he 
innocently exclaimed, “‘ Wait until they get Him 
down from the cross! ” Poor fellow—he was gaz- 
ing on the world’s great masterpiece—the one 
picture which has been enthroned by all ages as 
the climax of all art. 


III 


GREATNESS 


Ne 8 
is- 


iy 
} 
ie 


One On P 
Date 





Ill 
GREATNESS 


paRHERE have been great events, great 
fs, times, and great places, as well as 

@ Gs great persons. In this discourse we 
9 Sy, deal with “greatness” as it applies 
to personality. 

“‘ Great,” as a title bestowed, indicates that the 
bearer has made a profound impression on his own 
land and his own age—‘ Great,” ‘ Glorious,” 
‘Spectacular ”—That which strikes the popular 
imagination. This is what Napoleon means when 
he exclaims, ‘‘ Imagination rules the world! ” 

Most of the so-called great men of history have 
been soldiers, warriors, fighters, generals—Cesar, 
the Great! Napoleon, the Great! Alexander, the 
Great! Pompey, the Great! Herod, the Great! 
Alfred, the Great! Peter, the Great! Frederick, 
the Great! Constantine, the Great! Louis XIV., 
the Great! Alexander, by the way, is the first 
person in secular history to whom the appellation 
“‘ great “‘ was applied. So far, a fighting king has 
been the biggest thing in history. God grant that 
that kind of greatness has ended forever! 

Some of the greatest men in history have never 


31 





32 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


worn the title of ‘ great.” Who ever heard of 
“Dante, the Great,” ‘Socrates, the Great,” 
“Francis Bacon, the Great,” ‘‘ Immanuel Kant, 
the Great,” or “ Emerson, the Great ”’? 

Who ever heard of ‘“ Shakespeare, the Great,” 
“Luther, the Great,’ ‘Columbus, the Great,” 
“Cromwell, the Great,” ‘Lincoln, the Great,” 
‘“‘ Cavour, the Great,” ‘‘ Washington, the Great ”’? 
—And yet all of these men were great, truly great. 

‘“‘ Some men are born great, some achieve great- 
ness, some have greatness thrust upon them,” 
and some men are made great through scientific 
advertising. 

Greatness, in the United States, usually means 
one of five things: First, the possession of vast 
wealth; second, a reputation for the achievement 
of large success—to “ put your proposition across,” 
as they say; third, to be crowned with universal 
fame, reputation, or notoriety; fourth, to occupy a 
high political position; fifth, the fame or glamour 
which comes to one as the result of an organized 
propaganda. Buy a chain of newspapers stretch- 
ing from ocean to ocean and in all human probabil- 
ity you will be regarded as “ great.” 

The standard of greatness for the present age is 
very largely financial. When a famous delegation 
of Chinese ambassadors arrived in New York City, 
after having inspected everything worthy of con- 
sideration that could be found in the great me- 
tropolis, the Mayor of New York inquired of these 


GREATNESS 33 


distinguished guests if there was anything else 
which they desired to see? ‘Their answer was 
unanimous: They desired to see and converse with 
the richest man in the world, namely, John D. 
Rockefeller! In this respect they reflected the 
spirit of the age. ' 
Byron was a great poet—great in fame, reputa- 
tion, and from a monetary standpoint. A certain 
publisher whose privilege it was to inspect the 
books and accounts of a great publishing house in 
London, while turning over the pages of a cash 
book of three generations ago, discovered that the 
establishment in one year had paid Lord Byron a 
sum equal to seventy-five thousand dollars. ‘“ Gra- 
cious! ” exclaimed the visiting publisher, ‘‘ Byron 
must have been a great poet! ”—-John Ruskin asks, 
‘“* How much did Homer get for ‘ The Iliad’? How 
much did Dante get for ‘ The Divine Comedy ’? ” 


“ Dollars and dimes, dollars and dimes, 
An empty pocket 1s the worst of crimes!” 


There are degrees of greatness, because there 
are different realms of human achievement. In 
Matthew’s Gospel, eleventh chapter and eleventh 
verse, we read these words of Jesus: “‘ Verily I say 
unto you, Among them that are born of women 
there hath not risen a greater than John the Bap- 
tist: notwithstanding, he that is least in the king- 
dom of heaven is greater than he.” 

In this remarkable statement Jesus is emphasiz- 


34 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


ing the fact that the greatness of a man depends 
upon his classification as to realm and department 
—that is, the quality of his achievement. John 
was the greatest of the Old Dispensation prophets. 
He stood for the highest in the realm of morality. 
Jesus was the exponent of a new and higher realm, 
even the Kingdom of God. Jesus affirmed that the 
person who was least in the higher realm was 
higher than the individual who stood highest in the 
lower realm. Everything depends upon your clas- 
sification as to realm and department. 

For instance, John was the last of the Old Testa- 
ment prophets: Jesus was the first of the New 
Testament prophets. John stood for the social: 
Jesus stood for the spiritual. John preached 
morality: Jesus preached spirituality. John said, 
“ Do right ”: Jesus said “ Be right.” John placed 
the emphasis on Conduct: Jesus placed the em- 
phasis on Character. Jesus was greater than John 
because He stood for a higher realm, and the lowest 
person in quality of character in the realm of the 
spirit and the spiritual is higher than the highest 
person in quality of character in that realm which 
deals simply with moral relations as between man 
and man and excludes the idea of religion and God. 

All great men are not equally great. A great 
acrobat is not so great as a great cook. A great 
prizefighter is not so great as a great politician. A 
great politician is not so great as a great statesman. 
A great architect is not so great as a great painter. 


GREATNESS 35 


A great actor is not so great as a great orator. A 
great orator is not so great as a great poet. A great 
warrior is not so great as a great king. A great 
preacher is not so great as a great prophet. 

John L. Sullivan, that famous pugilist of former 
days, tightened his jeweled belt around his massive 
form, and calling the attention of his friends to the 
fact that the belt symbolized “ the championship of 
the world” for which he had successfully strug- 
gled, remarked, with emphasis, that the champion’s 
belt was greater than Victoria’s crown; for, he rea- 
soned, while Queen Victoria had inherited her 
crown, he had secured his champion’s belt by bat- 
tling for it: it had come to him as the result of a 
great struggle. He therefore regarded his belt as 
of more value than the jeweled diadem of the 
queen. But John L. Sullivan had forgotten one 
thing: namely, that pugilism is not to be classed in 
the same department with royalty and kingship. 
It is easier to knock a man out in the seventh round 
than to wear a crown! Kingship is a higher realm 
than ring-ship—and the quality of your greatness 
very largely depends on the location, high or low, 
of the realm in which it is achieved. 

There is a standard of greatness for every realm 
of human achievement. There is a greatness of 
weight—tonnage. There is a greatness of size— 
bulk. There is a greatness of number—mathe- 
matics. There is a greatness of space—vastness. 
There is a greatness of length—distance. There is 


36 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


a greatness of years—memory. There is a great- 
ness of intellect—genius. There is a greatness of 
character—moral conviction. There is a greatness 
of spirit—soulfulness. 

Greatness in the physical realm means size and 
weight. Greatness in the mental realm means per- 
ception and brilliancy. Greatness in the moral 
realm results from a profound conviction. Great- 
ness in the spiritual realm is expressed in that 
happy phrase, ‘‘ In tune with the Infinite.” This 
climax of harmony was achieved by Enoch, con- 
cerning whom it was said: ‘‘ Enoch walked with 
God: and he was not; for God took him.” 

The greatness of a writer is in his style. The 
greatness of a statesman is in his foresight. The 
greatness of a politician is in his tact. The great- 
ness of a merchant is in his management. The 
greatness of a singer is in his tone. The greatness 
of an artist is in the atmosphere of his production. 
The greatness of an architect is in the perfection of 
form. The greatness of a lawyer is in rare com- 
monsense. The greatness of a_ preacher—all 
things being equal—is in the auapry of an absolute 
sincerity. 

Every form of greatness produces a great name. 
Architecture produced Bramante. Art produced 
Michelangelo. Royalty produced Louis XIV. 
Sainthood produced St. Francis of Assisi. Martyr- 
dom produced Savonarola. Theology produced 
John Calvin. Poetry produced William Shake- 


GREATNESS 37 


speare. Law and legislation produced Moses. 
Sonship with God produced Jesus. 

Every great man develops a sixth sense. A great 
ruler develops a sense of fatherhood; a great poli- 
tician, a sense of balance and compromise; a great 
leader, a sense of the whole relationship; a great 
philosopher, a sense of the logical sequence; a 
great scientist, a sense for finding certain funda- 
mental facts which may be formulated into great 
laws. 

A great artist develops a sense of the universal; 
a great poet, the sense of appropriate expression; 
a great inventor, the sense of the eternal fitness of 
things; a great editor, the sense of proportion; a 
great statesman, a prophetic sense of the inevi- 
table; a great diplomat, a happy sense of ap- 
proach; a great orator, an appropriate sense of 
occasion; a great agitator, a forceful sense of 
righteousness; a great preacher, a mystical sense 
of the invisible. 

Many forms of greatness can be lost. A great 
financier may lose his greatness on the stock ex- 
change. A great prizefighter may lose his great- 
ness in the ring. A great politician may lose his 
greatness in an election. A great movie actor may 
lose his greatness through one night of dissipation. 
A great preacher may lose his greatness by one 
sudden breath of scandal. A great orator may lose 
his greatness, in a popular sense, by advocating an 
unpopular cause. 


38 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


The world’s verdict of greatness pivots on “ Re- 
sults.”” The world asks but one question concern- 
ing any man: “ What did he do?” Cesar laid the 
foundation of empire. Napoleon changed the map 
of Europe. Cromwell enthroned righteousness in 
the land. Washington created a republic. Lincoln 
saved a nation. These are colossal results. 

But no great result is secured without leader- 
ship; therefore, leadership is a sure sign and 
symbol of greatness. Leadership calls for inde- 
pendence in thought, action, and program. The 
great man leads. This is in harmony with the 
pertinent remark of Thomas Carlyle, that student 
of great men and the writer of great biographies. 
Remember the words of Carlyle: “‘ Find your man, 
and all else will follow.” 

There are four tests of greatness: First, the test 
of The Hour; second, the test of The Age; third, 
the test of History; fourth, the test of Eternity. 
Let us consider these. 

The test of The Hour is not always reliable. In 
that volume entitled, ‘‘ Who’s Who in America,” 
there are to be found ten thousand names; but 
every time the volume is re-edited and re-issued, 
fully ten per cent. of these names are omitted. 
Some of the “ Who’s Whos ” have in the meantime 
been ‘‘ hoodoo-ed ” by certain unfortunate circum- 
stances. This is the test of the hour. 

When I was in Westminster Abbey I found a 
monument to a forgotten hero. The name was 


GREATNESS 39 


inscribed on the monument, but nobody knew the 
individual to whom the name belonged. In some 
hour of wild enthusiasm this man had been 
crowned with the garland of human approval, and, 
dying at his zenith, was buried in that great temple 
of genius, Westminster Abbey; but no custodian 
nor historian of this great ecclesiastical edifice, 
situated in the heart of London, has ever been able 
to figure out just why this particular individual 
was regarded as great. The test of The Hour is 
not reliable. 

There was a time when Admiral Dewey might 
have been promoted to the presidency of the 
United States. His name was upon every tongue. 
His name was a household word. Every new hotel, 
every new road, every new medicine, every new 
machine, and every new brand of animal was 
dubbed “‘ Dewey.” He stood in the fierce spotlight 
of American fame for one hour and then passed on. 
I was present at his funeral in Washington. It was 
so somber and quiet as to stand in marked contrast 
with the hour when the marvelous achievement of 
this noble American fired the republic with acclaim 
and applause. 

The second test is the test of The Age. This, 
also, is very often wrong. The man who invented 
the microscope was a great man—that goes with- 
out challenge; but he died of starvation, neg- 
lected by his age. The man who discovered the 
telescope was a great man—that point is beyond 


40 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


dispute; but he died in a dungeon, unappreciated 
by the age in which he lived. William Harvey is 
famous as the man who discovered the circulation 
of the blood; but as soon as he announced his dis- 
covery to the medical world his practice began to 
fall off. His theory was condemned by the medical 
staff of St. Bartholomew’s Hospital in London and 
by the vigorous attack of the leaders of thought at 
that great university called Cambridge. The test 
of The Age is not always reliable. 

The third test is the test of History—This is apt 
to be right. Young man, get on the right side of 
God and history. So here are the four tests of 
greatness: First, the test of The Hour; second, the 
test of The Age; third, the test of History; and 
fourth, the test of Eternity. As a famous artist 
once exclaimed, “ I paint for eternity.” 

After this long dissertation as to the quality, 
character, and classification of greatness, I can 
imagine some puzzled and bewildered mortal ask- 
ing the question—‘ What, then, really constitutes 
greatness? ” Here is my answer—lI shall repeat it 
twice that it may be clearly comprehended: That 
man is great who stands high in his own realm of 
human achievement; that man is greatest who 
stands the highest in his own realm of human 
achievement. When a man stands No. One in his 
own department, he may be classed as great in that 
department. 

If you ask me for a concrete illustration of this 


GREATNESS 41 


definition of greatness, I will ask you to mention 
the name of any one man, in the history of the 
world, who has been, for centuries, regarded as 
truly—indisputably great. Whose name do you 
mention in answer to such a challenge? The 
answer I would expect you to make would be 
“William Shakespeare! ” Nobody questions the 
greatness of Shakespeare. I ask, for the sake of 
illustration, Why was Shakespeare great?—and in 
illustrating my definition of greatness I give you 
three reasons for the greatness of the great poet of 
Stratford-on-Avon: First, Shakespeare belonged to 
the realm of literature, which is the highest realm 
of art. Second, Shakespeare belonged to the realm 
of poetry, which is the highest realm of literature. 
Third, William Shakespeare stands the highest in 
the highest realm of literary art. He is great be- 
cause he stands highest in the highest realm of art. 

No intelligent person will challenge the state- 
ment that Jesus, the Nazarene, Jesus, the Man of 
Galilee, Jesus, the Son of the Most High, was in- 
fallibly great. I submit the interrogation: Why 
was Jesus great? He was not great simply because 
we affirm or proclaim His greatness. There must 
be a historical and scientific reason for the great- 
ness of Jesus; and this is our answer: Jesus was 
great—nay, Jesus is great—because He stands the 
highest in the highest realm of all, namely, the 
spiritual. The spiritual realm is the highest; and 
in the highest of all realms Jesus stands the highest 


42 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


—the highest in the highest realm. Therefore, to 
Him are applied those remarkable words: “ He 
shall be great, and shall be called the Son of the 
Highest.” Jesus, the great! ‘‘ His name shall en- 
dure forever; His name shall be continued as long 
as the sun: and men shall be blessed in him: all 
nations shall call him blessed.” 

Jesus was great in many realms—great as a 
prophet, great as a philosopher, great as a psychic, 
great as a physician, great as an orator, and great 
as a Saviour. ‘He shall be great, and shall be 
called the Son of the Highest! ” 

How appropriate are the words of Jean Paul 
Richter as he speaks of Christ—‘‘ Who, being the 
holiest among the mighty and the mightiest among 
the holy, lifted with His pierced hands empires off 
their hinges, turned the stream of the centuries out 
of its channel, and still governs the ages.” 


IV 


HAPPINESS 





IV 
HAPPINESS 


yA HE scientific condition of a lasting 

) me happiness is, first and foremost, the 
YS) |e S ae possession of good health. Happiness 
EO RED) is health. Unhappiness is dis-ease. 
Health, fundamentally, insures happiness. Health, 
by the way, has three phases: First, physical health 
obtains when the cells of the body move in perfect 
harmony with the cells of the brain. Second, men- 
tal health exists when every act of the Will moves 
in harmony with an enlightened and enthroned 
conscience. Third, spiritual health is our posses- 
sion when all physical forces center harmoniously 
in the mind and when the mind automatically cen- 
ters in and is merged with God. These are the 
three phases of health. 

The Law of Balance is the main factor. What a 
tremendously complicated machine is the human 
body, and how important that we keep a perfect 
balance as between the body and the brain! 

Lasting happiness pivots on a certain Law of 
Balance. I am happy when my self-respect equals 
public opinion and humanity’s estimate of myself. 
I am happy when my income equals my present 


45 





46 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


and prospective needs. I am happy when my time 
equals all necessary work, desired pleasure, and 
preferred study. I am happy when my interest in 
my work equals my investment of toil and effort. 
Here is the Law of Balance. It is very closely 
related to the thing we call happiness. 

Happiness is not a result, but a process. Happi- 
ness is the consciousness of progress. In the log 
book of Columbus, we find written these words, as 
day by day certain knots of distance toward the 
New World were registered: “‘ This day we sailed 
westward.”’ Here was progress; and happiness is 
the consciousness of progress. 

Happiness pivots on a wise settlement of certain 
great, vital issues: First, Religion—Religion is 
destiny. Second, Occupation—Occupation is des- 
tiny. Third, Marriage—Marriage is destiny. 

Happiness is fostered by concentrating on the 
few things which are vital and essential. A man 
may receive one hundred letters in twenty-four 
hours. The chances are that perhaps only seven of 
the one hundred are imperative and demand in- 
stantaneous attention. So happiness is fostered by 
concentrating on the few vital things. 

Happiness depends on a combination of circum- 
stances which suits your peculiar temperament. 
The scholar asks for a quiet hour and a book. The 
athlete asks for strength and a mountain to climb. 
The scientist asks for instruments and a “ prob- 
lem” to solve. The capitalist asks for business 


HAPPINESS A7 


and organization. The preacher asks for a subject 
and a congregation—and one is as difficult to find 
as the other is to get. The politician asks for an 
issue and a crisis. The philosopher asks for a fact, 
a theory, and a law. The physician asks for a 
patient and a diagnosis. The lawyer asks for a 
case, a brief, and a jury. We repeat, Happiness 
depends on a certain combination of circumstances 
which suits your own peculiar temperament. 

Happiness is prone to follow an enthusiastic love 
of work. There can be no enduring happiness 
without occupation—congenial occupation. The 
man with a problem to solve is thinking of some- 
thing besides himself—something better than him- 
self. President Roosevelt uttered a vital sentence 
when he said, “I like my job.” It is marvelous 
how many men would like to be in a position to 
like the kind of a job that Theodore Roosevelt 
discharged so faithfully and so_ successfully! 
Work—tThere is no substitute for honest toil! 
There is no place in heaven, earth, or hell where 
you “can sit’ and sing your soul away to “ ever- 
lasting bliss.”” Work is one of the great guarantees 
of happiness. 

Happiness may be guaranteed, in a measure, by 
creating a place for yourself in the world. That 
man is an aristocrat and worthy to be placed in 
the “ preferred stock ” class who has become a 
necessity—a social necessity, an artistic necessity, 
a financial necessity, a literary necessity, a political 


48 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 





necessity, an economic necessity, or an intellect- 
ual necessity. 

No philosophy of happiness is sound which ig- 
nores the idea of property. A physical body 
necessitates a material basis. In order to be safe 
and secure and at ease, we need at least standing 
room in the world. Every man needs one square 
foot of real estate on which to stand when he is 
alive—and a little bit more than this when he 
is dead. 

The enduring quality of all happiness will de- 
pend on the character of your ambition. For 
Alexander it was Conquest. For Cesar it was 

Empire. For Napoleon it was Glory. For Louis 
- XIV. it was Grandeur. For Mark Antony it was 
Love.. For Henry VIII. it was Power. For 
Michelangelo it was Beauty in color and form. 
For Savonarola it was Righteousness. For Jesus 
it was Character, spiritualized. 

Happiness depends very largely on your choice 
of a “thrill.” Intoxication is the thrill of an ex- 
cited brain. Hilarity is the thrill of extravagant 
laughter. ‘‘ Joy-riding”’ is the thrill of emotion 
and locomotion. Dissipation is the thrill of 
speeded pleasure. Excitement is the thrill of the 
unusual. Music is the thrill of pleasant sounds. 
Art is the thrill of beautiful forms. Society is the 
thrill of congenial relationships. Home is the thrill 
of enthroned affection. Ecstasy is the thrill of 
mental rapture. 


HAPPINESS 49 


The recognized enemies of happiness are eight 
in number. First, impossible and unattainable 
ambition. Second, a self-interest which is so 
strong that it will not admit of a social interest. 
Third, an unsatisfied craving, whether it be phys- 
ical, social, or mental. Fourth, a rebuking con- 
science. Fifth, an irritating and wuncongenial 
environment. Sixth, uncontrolled fear and anx- 
iety. Seventh, misdirected energies, whether phys- 
ical or mental. Eighth, the enthronement of a 
false standard of life. A man committed suicide, 
recently, in New York, because his income had 
dropped down to ten thousand dollars a year. He 
felt that he could not exist in comfort and respect- 
ability on a sum so small as the amount indicated. 
He was dominated by a false standard of life. 

There are three unfailing guarantees of human 
happiness: First, the discovery that the great 
sources of happiness are from within—secret, 
silent, invisible, hidden. There was a time when a 
French nobleman would embarrass himself finan- 
cially in order to win a smile from the Grand 
Monarch, Louis XIV. The world is less disposed 
to squander money in that way today. More and 
more, we are learning that happiness depends on 
the inner resources of mind, heart, conscience, and 
the entire personality. There is a divine conceit 
which is an equivalent and complement of that 
which we speak of as the “divine discontent.” 
Charles Kingsley once exclaimed, “‘ This world has 


50 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


nothing to offer which I really want, which I really 
care for, which I really must have, and which I 
cannot do without.” He had found the secret 
inner source of happiness. 

Second: A second guarantee of happiness is a 
strong and enthusiastic interest in some vital living 
subject. Happy people are people who are inter- 
ested in something or somebody. How vital and 
intense is the interest in life of Thomas A. Edison! 
By the way, you will remember that this great 
inventive genius was so much wrapped up in his 
electrical experiments that he forgot the day and 
date fixed for his wedding! However, there was 
somebody to remind him of the fact that no mar- 
rlage ceremony is a success without the presence 
of the bridegroom. 

Third: The fundamental guarantee of happiness 
is the great secret of thought control. All control 
is thought control. And when we speak of thought 
control we mean control of the nerves, control of 
the emotions, control of the passions, control of 
the appetites, control of the moods, control of the 
temper, control of the pean of the 
spirit. 

The secret of happiness is thought control. As 
one great writer has said, ‘‘ God governs the rock 
by gravitation, He governs the tree by a natural 
law, He governs the animal by instinct, and He 
governs man by Reason.” ‘The most interesting 
thing in the world is a man in control of himself. 


V 


CONSCIENCE 


ra *, ae 


9 fas 


AOR Se a a a 
} aaah aA it Ry 





V 


CONSCIENCE 
A\EQNISHAT is conscience? Schopenhauer 
4/@ supplies an answer: ‘Conscience is / 





ANS superstition; one-fifth, prejudice; one- 
fifth, vanity; and one-fifth, custom.” 

I think I can give a better answer than that. 
Conscience is man’s seventh or spiritual sense. 
Man has seven senses: sense of sight, sense of 
sound, sense of small, sense of taste, sense of touch, 
sense of sex, and—conscience or spiritual sense. 

Conscience is the thought of God in the soul. 
Conscience is the soul daring to look itself in the 
face. Conscience is a bit of the Day of Judgment 
hid away in a man’s brain. Conscience is the 
weight of the word “ ought” in human speech. 
Conscience is the measure of the distance between 
what you are and what you ought to be. Con- 
science is the sense of right and wrong forever fixed’ 
in human thought Atheism has never been able 
to account for conscience.—“ And in the midst of 
the garden . . . the tree of the knowledge of good 
and evil ”—That’s conscience! 

It is the business of conscience to tell you the 


53 


one-fifth, the fear of man; one-fifth, | 


at - 
Bye 


54 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


difference between right and wrong, good and evil, 
ugliness and beauty, health and deformity, truth 
and error. A broad education is built on learning 
the meaning of three great distinctions, namely, the 
difference between cause and effect, truth and 
error, right and wrong. 

Conscience is indicated by an instant and auto- 
matic protest of the soul in the presence of evil. 
If I lift my hand to strike you, your eye will close 
without any effort on your part. The action is 
automatic. At the sound of a discord your ear pro- 
tests. The eye is conscience in the realm of sight. 
The ear is conscience in the realm of sound. The 
tongue is conscience in the realm of taste. The 
nostril is conscience in the realm atmospherical. 
The nerve is conscience in the realm of contact. 
Sir Joshua Reynolds possessed an artistic con- 
science. He said concerning a disappointing pic- 
ture, ‘‘ It lacks that.” 

Within certain limitations a man can do any- 
thing he pleases with his conscience. What an 
essay might be written of the eccentricities of con- 
science. ‘The old-fashioned cellar furnace gener- 
ated heat which could be turned into the parlor, 
library, sitting-room, dining-hall or bed-chamber, 
according to your pleasure. For this reason the 
house was sometimes warm on one side and cold 
on the other. So a man can control and direct his 
conscience. 

There is a Corporation conscience. The man 


CONSCIENCE 55 


who would rob nobody will join a corporation and 
rob everybody. 

There is a Political conscience—‘‘ My country, 
may she always be right, but right or wrong, my 
country.” 

There is a Commercial conscience—“ Business 
is business.” 

There is a Geographical conscience—‘‘ When * 
you are in Rome do as the Romans do.” 

There is a Social conscience—“ They all do it.” 

There is a Family conscience—“ Us four and 
no more.” 

There is a Personal conscience—“ and herein do 
I exercise myself, to have always a conscience void 
of offense toward God and man.” 

Everything depends on what a man does with his 
conscience. The criminal in Rome, executed for 
murder, was terribly in earnest when he said that 
he had never murdered a man on a fast day. 
When a man surrenders his conscience to fear he 
becomes a coward, when he surrenders his con- 
science to tradition he becomes a bigot, when he 
surrenders his conscience to superstition, he be- 
comes a fanatic, when he surrenders his conscience 
to his church he becomes a formalist, but when he 
surrenders his conscience to Christ he becomes a * 
Christian. 

The development of a conscience is the highest 
work of church, school, college or university. The 
only safe guide is an educated conscience. The 


56 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


negroes in Central Africa never knew that they 
were black until they saw the face of a white man. 
The end of all religion is the development of a 
normal conscience—sensitive on all vital points. 

Nothing in life will bring you so much genuine 
satisfaction as a fixed principle. Better lose your 
place than lose your soul. Lord Macaulay said to 
the politicians of his day: ‘‘ Gentlemen, it is not es- 
sential that I go to Parliament, but it is essential 
that I retain my self-respect.” James A. Garfield 
was speaking in the same vein when he said: 
‘“‘ There is one man whose respect I must have at 
all hazards, and his name is James A. Garfield— 
for I must room with him, work with him, walk 
with him, eat with him, talk with him, commune 
with him—live with him.” Mark Twain, in the 
hour of his financial misfortune and commercial 
distress, exclaimed: ‘‘I cannot afford to compro- 
mise for less than one hundred cents on the dollar.” 

John Morley, after a career of extensive opera- 
tions and vast experience, utters these startling 
words: “In a public life covering many years, I 
have only known four men whose personal love of 
truth was absolutely unassailable.” Theodore 
Roosevelt affirmed that in his political experience 
he has found three classes of men: First, the man 
who is honest; second, the man who is dishon- 
est; third, the man who is honest according to 
the law—just honest enough to keep out of the 
penitentiary. 


CONSCIENCE 57 


Take that rock-hewn word, Right. Right is 
right and wrong is wrong. The man who cove- 
nants with himself to do right and avoid wrong has 
planted the seed of heroism in his soul. The man 
who loves the right is not far from the kingdom of 
God. Lincoln steered by the straight line of 
righteousness. Hear him: “If slavery is not 
wrong, nothing is wrong! ” ‘The stones of truth 
are clean cut and diamond square. ‘ Right is right 
as God is God.” ‘ God asks not: ‘ To which sect 
did he belong?’ but, ‘ Did he love the right and 
hate the wrong?’ ” 

There is a national conscience—conscience de- 
veloped as a national type—‘‘ As honest as a 
Huguenot.”” A young man who could not be cor- 
rupted by corporation bribes was said to have “a 
Scotch conscience.” What a compliment to the 
land of John Knox! There is a Scotch conscience, 
a German conscience, a French conscience, an 
Asiatic conscience, an Oriental conscience and an 
American conscience. 

Theodore Roosevelt did more to quicken and 
arouse the American conscience, in the political 
realm, than any other man of his generation. 
When he marched with nine kings at the funeral of 
Edward VII. he was equal in weight of character to 
their combined personalities. His life was an illus- 
tration of how a youth of education, culture and 
wealth can serve his country with high honor and 
large success. 


58 . THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


The greatest battle of the ages has been the bat- 
tle for freedom of conscience. Four thousand 
battles have been fought on two thousand battle- 
fields that a man’s conscience might be free. The 
man who claims to have dominion over conscience, 
be he preacher, prelate or prophet, is a danger- 
ous man. 


VI 


THEOSOPHY 





VI 
THEOSOPHY 


<3) (es UST at the present time we are regaled 
y with many fascinating subjects and 
) themes to be found in our newspapers 
’ and monthly periodicals—articles bear- 
ing such appellations as, for instance, ‘‘ The 
Approach to a Universal Religion,” ‘The Con- 
tribution of Chaldean Astrologers,’ ‘The Wise 
Men of Greece,” ‘“‘ The Brotherhood of India,” 
“The Mystics of Egypt and Arabia,” “‘ The Un- 
derlying Truths of Theosophy.” 

What is Theosophy? Theosophy means “ Wis- 
dom of God.”” Theosophy deals with the vastness 
of the universe. ‘Theosophy speaks of realm be- 
yond realm. Theosophy places universal literature 
under contribution. Theosophy seeks to apply the 
scientific method to the invisible world. Theoso-’ 
phy affirms that in every religion there is a deposit 
of divine truth. Theosophy teaches that all sys- 
tems of truth meet and merge. Theosophy affirms 
that there are great truths which undergird all re- 
ligions and overarch all creeds. Theosophy builds 
on the Motherhood of God and the Brotherhood 
of Man. 





61 


62 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


The favorite phrases of Theosophy are “ Secret 
Doctrine ”—“ Higher Wisdom ”—“ Divine Knowl- 
edge ” — “ Fundamental Teaching ” — ‘‘ Wisdom 
Religion ”—‘ Eternal Law ”—“ Esoteric Teach- 
ing ””—‘‘ A World Creed.” 

The great words of Theosophy are ‘‘ Karma ”— 
“ Nirvana ’—‘‘ Reincarnation ”—“ Adept.” Adept 
—that means one trained in the secret doctrine. 
Karma—that means law; cause and effect—that 
every effect has a cause and every cause produces 
an effect. Nirvana—that means absorption in 
God; rest in God; repose in God; silence in God. 
Reincarnation—that means degrees in the Univer- 
sity of Divine Progress. 

Theosophy teaches that everything in the uni- 
verse is dominated by law. ‘“‘ Karma—By Law.” 
By law the sun shines. By law the tides return. 
By law the flowers bloom. By law the grapes pur- 
ple. By law the planets swing. By law morning- 
glories open. By law the solar systems revolve. 
By law nations are born. By law civilizations die. 
By law revolutions upheave. And by law dynas- 
ties expire. 

Theosophy regards all evil as incidental, non- 
essential, accidental, transient, passing, and pro- 
portionately non-existent. Sin is regarded as a 
blunder, a mishap, a misstep, a mistake, a missing 
of the way, a misapprehension—or, to use a Scrip- 
tural interpretation, ‘‘ Missing the mark.” 

Theosophy enthrones the one-ness of all things. 


THEOSOPHY 63 


There is only one God, one Law, one Truth, one 
Science, one Spirit, one Religion. Theosophy af- 
firms that this planet is too small for two religions. 

There is but one person—God. There is but 
one law—Love. There is but one quality—Spirit. 
There is but one motion—Vibration. There is but 
one symbol—Nature. There is but one truth— 
Relationship. There is but one book—Memory. 
There is but one judge—Conscience. ‘There is 
but one method—Evolution. There is but one 
mystery—Eternity. There is but one destiny— 
Character. 

Theosophy teaches that man’s final destiny is 
repose in the Infinite—repose in God. ‘“ Rest in 
God.” “Lost in God.” ‘“ Hid in God.” “ Shel- 
tered in God.” “Surrounded by God.” “ Ab- 
sorbed in God.” ‘One with God.” To use the 
dying words of Edward Payson, the Saint of New 
England: “I float in a sea of glory—I am swal- 
lowed up of God.” 

Theosophy attempts a definition of the spiritual. 
There is a person—Congciousness. ‘There is a 
book—Memory. There isa temple—Mind. There 
is a ritual—Music. ‘There is a truth—Sonship. 
There is a symbol—Nature. There is an altar— 
Conscience. There is a word—Wisdom. There is 
a sign—the Cross (the shape of the human form). 
There is a universal law—Karma. And there is a 
method—Incarnation. 

What a wonderful thing it would Be if we could 


64 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


achieve a religion of pure spirit, here and now—a 
religion which would not say “ Here is a person,” 
or “ Here is a book,” or “ Here is a system,” or 
‘“‘ Here is an organization,” or “ Here is a ritual,” 
or ‘“ Here is a temple,” or “ Here is a sign,” or 
“Here is an altar,” or “ Here is a teacher ”— 
“Here is the only infallible authority.” If we 
could for once get away from all material forms 
which are external, and breathe the atmosphere of 
pure spirit, we might then stretch wide the wings 
of the soul. 

We are told that there are great teachers of psy- 
chology or of spiritual thought in far-away Oriental 
lands—somewhere in India with its contending 
tribes, somewhere in Egypt with its sore eyes and 
blindness, somewhere in China with its famine 
and death, somewhere in Russia with its rags and 
malaria, somewhere in Arabia with its rocks and 
scorching suns, somewhere in Africa with its savage 
ignorance and natural depravity—Somewhere— 
which is always elsewhere and absolutely “no 
where.”’ 

A psychology which is incomplete, shallow, 
weak, and false always leads a man away from 
himself. Beware of the man who says that the 
remedy which you are seeking may be found in 
“this book,” in ‘ this church,” in “ this system,”’ 
in “‘ this school,” in “‘ this cult,” in ‘‘ this land.” A 
false psychology always leads a man away from 
himself. The most scientific sentence which Jesus 


THEOSOPHY 65 


ever articulated is this: “ The Kingdom of God is 
within you.” 

The fundamental fact of a successful philosophy 
is expressed in one word—“ Spirit.” God is a 
Spirit. Man is a Spirit. Nature is Spiritual. The 
universe is one vast atom with everything on the 
inside. Matter is a lower form of spirit. Spirit is 
a higher and finer form of matter. There is not 
one missing link in the universal chain from the 
lowest form of matter to the highest form of Spirit. 
All things touch. Jesus demonstrated this fact 
when He walked out of the realm of the material 
into the realm of the Spiritual over a perfectly con- 
nected stairway which the Psychic Universe pro- 
vided for His transfigured personality. 

The fundamental basis of all unity is Spirit. 
Spirit is the best definition of God. Spirit is the 
best explanation of man. Spirit is the highest qual- 
ity in nature. Spirit is the explanation of all mir- 
acles and marvels. Spirit is the creative force in 
the universe. Spirit is the master of mind. .Spirit 
is the mother of thought. Spirit is the infallible 
proof of immortality. Spirit is “ The Lost Word ” 
—Christ is the exponent of the Spirit Realm. 

It is spirit which unifies. Men differ in skin, 
hair, stature, language, habits, features, traditions, 
ideas, and ideals. They are all one, however, in 
spirit. 

Today the world is struggling upward toward 
unity and a universal system of thought—One 


66 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


philosophy comprehended by all. One science 
demonstrated by all. One language spoken by all. 
One currency acceptable to all. One system of 
transportation open to all. One government pre- 
siding over all. One world anthem sung by all. 
One flag floating above all. One Church embrac- 
ing all in spiritual sympathy. And one religion 
over-arching all—a universal system of thought. 

The theology of today is as child’s play com- 
pared with the scientific demands of the hour. 
Are we prepared to sacrifice historical names, 
favorite forms, hoary traditions, treasured sym- 
bols, peculiar phrases, sectional preferences, time- 
honored altars, and deified dogmas? Are we 
prepared to sacrifice all these for the sake of spir- 
itual unity? I trow not—not for a thousand 
years! The more’s the pity. 

We are looking for a religion which does not 
build its super-structure on false claims, which 
does not build itself up by tearing other religions 
down—a religion which does not manifest its in- 
completeness by claiming to be complete. We are 
looking for a religion which does not boast of 
miracles, past, present, or possible, as an authority, 
credential, or confirmation. No spiritual truth 
rests on a physical miracle. We are looking for a 
religion which points ever inward toward the star 
chamber of the soul, and does not prate of ‘“ me- 
diums,” “‘ adepts,” or “‘ psychic experts.’”’ We are 
looking for a religion which is not “ local” in the 


THEOSOPHY 67 


geographical center of its operations, or fixed in the 
temporal date of its earthly origin. We are looking 
for a religion which is in harmony with the known 
facts of science, and does not demand that square 
physical facts shall fit into the round holes of theo- 
logical dogma. We are looking for a religion whose 
creed shall be brief, comprehensive, and workable, 
so that “‘ wayfaring men, though fools, shall not err 
therein.” Truth is the mother of simplicity. 

The world demands a religion which is as beau- 
tiful as the symbols of nature—modest as a flower, 
tender as love, buoyant as a bird, beautiful as a 
sunset, strong as the hills, certain as the law of 
gravitation, pure as the shining stars, orderly as 
the constellations, universal as the air, varied as the 
sky, wide as space, long as thought, deep as the 
oceans, vast as the universe, and high as the throne 
of the Infinite. 

When I was in the city of Rome I visited Had- 
rian’s Tomb, on the banks of the Tiber. It is situ- 
ated in the heart of Rome. I entered Hadrian’s 
Tomb and wandered round and round within the 
walls of that ancient edifice. Then I ascended its 
massive staircases and passed from floor to floor 
and corridor to corridor. Finally I found myself 
standing upon the apex of a magnificent dome, 
from the heights of which I enjoyed the circular 
view of a wonderful panorama—the great city of 
Rome spread out before me in its magnificence and 
splendor. On my right hand I beheld the dome of 


68 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


St. Peter’s, with the adjacent buildings of the 
Vatican. Surrounding me were twenty lesser 
domes scattered throughout the great ecclesiastical 
metropolis. Spires arose on every side. ‘The 
waters of the Tiber rolled by beneath my gaze. It 
was a great view! And, using Hadrian’s Tomb as 
a metaphor, may I be permitted to say that the 
_ ambition of my life has been to stand upon some 
high intellectual peak and view in proper propor- 
tion all things mental, moral, spiritual, and psychic. 

The words of Shelley are dear to me: “ The 
perfect man shall be equal, unclassed, tribeless, 
nationless.”’ 

America is ready for an American Theosophy— 
a Theosophy enthroned in the human heart. A 
Theosophy whose headquarters shall be in the 
heavens. A Theosophy whose saints shall be in- 
spired personalities and transformed lives. A The- 
osophy whose miracles shall be classed as the final 
achievements of science. A Theosophy which shall 
center in the personality of the Christ and embrace 
the outermost limits of all things seen and unseen. 


VII 


BOOKS 





VII 
BOOKS 


(9 (>) BELIEVE it was Goethe who said: 
“SG “Never let a day pass, without look- 
a Ing at some perfect work of art, hear- 
wi ing some great piece of music and 
reading, in part, some great book.” 

Every beautiful thing is the expression of a di- 
vine thought. Agriculture brings the message of 
nature’s loveliness. Architecture brings its mes- 
sage of form. Sculpture brings its message of 
beauty. Painting brings its message of color. 
Music is sweet with the sensations of immortality. 
Literature is alive with life. 

Thought expresses itself in many forms. “ Em- 
erson thinks it. Raphael paints it. Luther pro- 
claims it. Columbus sails it. Christopher Wren 
builds it. Handel sings it. Cromwell enacts it. 
Shakespeare writes it.” 

But the most convenient and the most useful 
form of thought-expression is a Book. Emerson 
exclaims, ‘“‘ Give me a book, good health and a day 
in June and [ will make the pomp of kings absurd 
and ridiculous.”’ And he adds: “ I say of all priest- 
hoods, aristocracies, governing classes, there is no 


71 





72 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


class to be compared with the writer of books.” 
The historian, Lord Macaulay, affirms, ‘I would 
rather live in a garret with books than live in a pal- 
ace without books.” Fenelon, the great French 
preacher, paid his tribute of love to his favorite 
books in these words: “‘ If all the riches of the In- 
dies and all the crowns of all the kingdoms of Eu- 
rope were laid at my feet in exchange for my books 
I should know which to choose.” Elizabeth Bar- 
rett Browning breathes the same spirit of book- 
worship when she says, “ After all the world of 
books is still the world.” And Thomas Carlyle, 
that famous writer of books and lover of literature, 
coins the best piece of literary advice and sugges- 
tion in that happy remark: ‘“‘ The best university is 
a collection of good books.” 

There is nothing worth knowing which cannot be 
found in the English language. When Abraham 
Lincoln was in doubt as to the progress of the Civil 
War and wished to be informed as to the military 
plans which were being submitted for his approval, 
from time to time, he burned the midnight oil, 
reading the story of the great military campaigns 
of history; and in the end became wiser than some 
of the generals who, having failed in their own 
plans, were finally compelled to act on the sugges- 
tion of the great President. 

A book introduces us into the world’s best so- 
ciety. Wordsworth remarks: ‘“ There is one great 
society alone on earth, the noble living and the 


BOOKS 73 


noble dead.” That society is very largely repre- 
sented by the names and productions of great writ- 
ers, dead and alive. Oh, what treasures are these 
for hours of loneliness. A man who loves books 
can never be absolutely miserable. A novel by 
George Eliot, an essay by Macaulay, a history by 
Parkman, a poem by Browning, an article by John 
Stuart Mill, or a play by William Shakespeare. 

Tom Hood wrote, in the closing hours of his life: 
“‘ My books have saved me from the prize-ring, the 
dog-pit, the gambling-hell and the bar-room.” 
Jean Paul Richter uncovered his head in the pres- 
ence of the Castle Church, where Luther preached; 
for, standing by this noble edifice there came to 
him, in memory, the story of the German language 
and literature toward the enthronement of which 
Luther had made such a mighty contribution. Aye, 
and behold the dear old sage of Chelsea, when 
visiting the Castle in which Luther, as a captive, 
translated the Bible into the German language, 
stooping and kissing the table over which the great 
reformer leaned in patient study, day after day, for 
many a weary month. 

What a mighty thing is a good book. A book is 
a curious object. It is composed of cloth, paper, 
ink, glue and thread. The average book is seven 
inches long, five inches wide and two inches thick. 
It contains about five hundred pages and one hun- 
dred thousand words. But how mighty a thing it 
is. What great revolutions have been wrought by 


74 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


a book. There is nothing in the world so sure of a 
permanent place in human affection as a good book. 
Listen to Horace, as he views with a justifiable 
complacency the literary achievements of a life- 
time: “I have reared a monument more enduring 
than bronze.” 

And yet most of the world’s great books have 
been written in small rooms. Jonathan Edwards, 
the famous New England divine, wrote his “ Treat- 
ise on the Will” in a room eight feet square, the 
furniture of which was almost too slender and weak 
for a healthy man to lean on. It is thought power 
which makes a great book great. The power to 
think is the highest gift of God to man. A book is 
the human channel for the transmission of thought. 
Books differ in the quality of the thought which 
they contain. Lord Bacon once said: ‘“‘ Some books 
are to be read, some tasted, some swallowed, some 
digested.” That was a wise question addressed by 
Bentley to his son: ‘‘ Why read a book which you 
cannot quote?’’ There are books and_ books. 
Quality in literature is of supreme importance. 

Think of the toil and labor in the production of a 
great book. Morley’s “ Life of Gladstone ’”—three 
volumes. Nicolay and Hay’s “ Life of Lincoln ”— 
ten volumes. Carlyle’s “ Life of Frederick the 
Great ”—-six thousand pages. George Eliot said 
concerning one of her novels: ‘‘ I began it a young 
woman; I ended it an old woman.” Macaulay 
worked for twelve hours a day and produced twelve 


BOOKS 75 


pages a week. He placed all the libraries of Eur- 
ope under contribution. He said: “I will write a 
history of England that will replace the latest novel 
on every lady’s table.” Virgil wrote four lines a. 
week, but they have held their place in the litera- 
ture while the slow-footed centuries have passed. 
John Milton spent three decades in the selection 
and preparation of material for his great poem, 
“‘ Paradise Lost.” 

Think of the rejected books. ‘‘ Sartor Resartus ” 
rejected. ‘‘ Paradise Lost” rejected. ‘‘ Vanity 
Fair ” rejected. ‘‘ Uncle Tom’s Cabin ”’ rejected. 
‘“‘ Jane Eyre ”’ rejected, and a host of other books. 
Rejected at first but accepted at last, and now 
wearing the crown of a universal sovereignty in the 
realm of literature. 

Consider how indestructible a great book is. 
You can extract a block of granite out of the heart 
of the Great Pyramid easier than you can cut a line 
out of John Milton’s “ Paradise Lost.”—‘ Long is 
the path and hard that out of hell leads up to 
light.” Who can improve on that? 

Consider how human a great book is. The books 
which live were written in human blood and bap- 
tized with human tears. The mother of Goethe 
said: ‘‘ Whenever my son has had a grief he has 
wrought it into a poem.” There is, in all true liter- 
ature, a universal note. Homer was a Greek and 
he sings of the story of Greece. Dante was an Ital- 
ian and he writes the story of the Middle Ages. 


76 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


Milton was a Puritan and he paints the picture of 
Cromwell’s age. Shakespeare is the most human 
and universal of all our great poets. The writings 
of William Shakespeare are worth more than all the 
possessions of India. 

Consider how powerful is a great book. De 
Quincy divided all books into two classes: The lit- 
erature of knowledge and the literature of power. 
Within one hundred years what waves of social up- 
heaval and reconstruction have been created and 
projected by such books as Harriet Beecher 
Stowe’s “ Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” Darwin’s “ Origin 
of Species,” Bellamy’s ‘‘ Looking Backward,” 
Henry George’s “ Progress and Poverty,” and 
Drummond’s ‘“ Natural Law in the Spiritual 
World.” A great book has often been mightier, in 
its effect, than a great battle. When William Pitt 
was petitioned for a pension for Robert Burns, he 
exclaimed impatiently: “Oh, let literature take 
care of itself! ” Southey replied: “It will take 
care of itself and of you, too, if you are not very 
careful.” A book has proved to be the mightiest 
silent force in history. 

But, to the theme which we have saaaee for the 
present passing hour. ‘‘ How can the man who is 
dead tired at the close of the day, cultivate a taste 
for solid reading? ” We shall answer the question 
by asking three others: I. What Should We Read? 
II. How Should We Read? III. Why Should We 
Read? 


BOOKS 77 


I. What Should We Read? No man should try 
and keep up with the present output of current lit- 
erature. If you did that literally and absolutely 
you would have to read twenty-six books for every 
day of the year—and that would just about cover 
the books which are printed on the North American 
continent. Books written in a month are forgotten 
in a season. Why should we seek to keep the run 
of every trashy tale which is written? When peo- 
ple ask me the question: “‘ Have you read this? ” 
‘“‘ Have you read that? ” I have no hesitancy in an- 
swering, ‘‘ No,” in every case when “‘ No” is the 
correct answer. A man may read so much that he 
has no time to think. It was said concerning 
Abraham Lincoln that he read less and thought 
more than any other great man in modern history. 

Emerson laid down three rules which should gov- 
ern the selection and purchase of books. First, 
Never read a book until it is a year old; second, 
Never read a book until it has become famous; 
third, Never read a book unless you like it. I 
would place the emphasis on the last rule. Read 
the books which you like (remember we are talking 
about solid literature). Read the books which are 
to your liking. Make your own selection. Few 
men can select a book for another. Every man has 
his own mental taste. 

Books may be divided into two classes. First, 
standard books, and second, books which are as yet 
on trial. President-Emeritus Eliot, of Harvard, 


78 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


has intimated that a shelf five feet long would be 
large enough to hold all the great books of standard 
classification, a knowledge fo which would mean 
the equivalent of a liberal education. But what 
shall we do with the great avalanche of books, re- 
views of which are to be found, weekly, in all our 
leading periodicals? If you bought books accord- 
ing to the recommendations of the average book re- 
viewer you might spend a small fortune on a vast 
accumulation of poorly written stuff, the larger por- 
tion of which will be quite forgotten inside of a dec- 
ade. What shall be our standard of selection? 

Books are written by men of temperament for 
men of temperament. Somebody has written for 
you. You have only to wait long enough and search 
deep enough to find a specimen of literature which 
will fit your mind as a perfect key fits the lock for 
which it was made. We use average discretion and 
normal care in the selection of food for the body. 
Why not exercise the same sort of common sense 
and sound judgment in selecting nourishment for 
the mind? The mind must needs be fed. And, 
as we shall seek to demonstrate later on in 
our discourse, there is a vital connection be- 
tween mental food and physical health. The main 
health currents for the body are generated in the 
mind. 

II. How Should We Read? 1. Surround your- 
self with the books which you love, even though 
you have no time to read them—surround yourself 


BOOKS 79 


with good books and great volumes. There is a re- 
fining influence in the title of a great book. There 
is in the index of a strong book an outline of argu- 
ment; a certain philosophical setting which is 
vitalizing. There is a measure of culture which 
comes from merely browsing among books. It is 
well to know of a book, albeit you cannot affirm 
that you know it. That man must be dull who can 
handle books and not cull a suggestion or glean an 
idea from such blessed intercourse and personal 
contact. 

When I was a youth of twenty I was placed in 
charge of a library of well-selected books—five 
thousand volumes, covering the best literature of 
the world. Little did I know, in those days, of uni- 
versal literature, but every applicant for a book (or 
for any information which might be found in a 
book) imagined that I had in my possession a 
knowledge of literature which was as wide as the 
world and as deep as human need. So I looked wise 
and said nothing to expose my ignorance. What I 
didn’t know, inadvertently, or by hook or crook, I 
found out. At times I was hard pressed, but the 
man who asked for information was, on the par- 
ticular point in question, as ignorant as myself. 
My! but that was an education! I dug a diadem 
out of my difficulty. I became a book lover and 
somewhat of an expert in handling works of 
reference. 

When Samuel Johnson was a boy he was one day 


80 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


looking for a basket of apples which his father had 
carefully placed behind some old books on top of 
an ancient book case, hid securely, beyond row 
after row of old folios and rare volumes. The boy 
did not find the apples, but he did find—a book—a 
great square-shaped, illustrated volume which 
caught his attention and captivated his imagina- 
tion. The rare old folio was a revelation to the boy 
—in fact, revealed the boy’s nature to himself— 
and from that moment he began to devour books. 
It was well that the father of Samuel Johnson was 
the proprietor of an old-fashioned, second-hand 
book store, else his home had scarcely housed the 
youthful form of the future dictator in the realm 
of English letters and literature. 

2. Read books which are your own and mark 
them. Mark all beautiful passages and exquisite 
phrases. In marking or underlining the sentence in 
your book you photograph it on your mind. A 
wisely ‘‘ marked” book is a rare volume. What 
rare beauties, what flaming thoughts, what star- 
like suggestions, what rainbow tints in metaphor, 
adjective and noun. I pick up an oration by In- 
gersoll and I read: “‘ The past rises before me like 
a dream.” In a volume of Byron he speaks of: 
“ Venice, the greenest isle of my imagination.” Or 
it may be that it is a beautiful quotation from one 
of our great English poets which leaps from a 
choice page: “‘ whose dwelling is the light of setting 
suns.” These are jewels fit for a monarch’s crown, 


BOOKS 81 


and worthy to flash and flame forever in the Star 
Chamber of the Soul. 

3. Buy books which look good to the eye. Buy 
books printed in good clear type, on unglazed 
paper, and in convenient form. Have a goodly 
number of little books, handy for the hand, con- 
venient for the pocket, inviting to the eye,—little 
volumes which can nestle in a corner here and 
there. A little book is so light in weight that a 
tired hand can hold it. I love little books. Henry 
Ward Beecher had his pockets built for books and 
a book for well-nigh every pocket—thus when trav- 
eling he carried with him into every railway train 
and hotel a choice collection of convenient classics. 

Buy your books as carefully as you would a 
piece of furniture for your parlor. Do not insult 
your eyes by reading type so fine and close that you 
must needs possess a magnifying glass in order to 
read with ease. Remember that your eyesight will 
not improve with the years. A large, clear, distinct 
type is a luxury in youth, and, for most folks, a ne- 
cessity in our approach to age. Reading is a habit 
which, if once cultivated, grows upon us with each 
additional decade. So, be kind to your eyes and 
they may see for you when your ear-drums are 
tired of earth’s noises and your feet are reluctant 
to move hither, thither and yon as in the years 
before the silver hair threaded the golden. 

4. Link yourself with some link of work which 
will compel you to read. Teach a class in Sunday 


* 82 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


school. Join the Debating Society in your village. 
Get into a literary society among a circle of people 
who know just a little bit more than you do. A 
master motive makes a thing interesting. You can 
do anything you care todo. You can do anything 
you wish to do. You can do anything you want to 
do. All that any man needs is a master motive. 
You will read until two o’clock in the morning if 
you are picking arguments, out of a book, with 
which to smite your enemy in some approaching 
intellectual contest. 

5. Have at least one subject on which you are an 
authority. The man who knows all about Cromwell 
knows more than most folks know. The history of 
every period centers us in the personality of the 
greatest man of the period. He who knows all 
about Lincoln is an authority on the Civil War in 
America. He who knows all about Napoleon has 
grasped a splendid epoch in the history of France. 
He who knows all about Charles I. could write an 
essay on the English Revolution. He who knows 
all about Julius Cesar has entered into the most 
thrilling period of the Roman Empire. That man 
is respected who can talk well on one subject, for 
his friends will, ever and always, question him 
about that subject. Have an intellectual hobby. 
Know all there is to be known about some one 
thing. 

Even a tired man can read for an hour when he 
is on the scent for certain facts. What a tired man 


BOOKS 83 





needs is not a rest.but a change. The young man 
who sleeps until eleven o’clock on Sunday morning 
rises with a headache. What he needed was not 
four hours extra sleep but a brain tonic. The man 
who has a subject to look up measures the value of 
every spare moment. He will hark back to his 
desk, back to his notebook, back to his room, back 
to the sanctum sanctorum of the heart. Nothing 
makes life so sweet as a special subject for mental 
investigation and literary research. It gives vital- 
ity to the brain, occupation to every leisure mo- 
ment and provides a connecting link between the 
mind and the great thinkers of the living present 
or the so-called, dead past. 

6. Read biography and especially autobiography. 
Truth is stronger than fiction. I find it hard to 
read a novel, for something within me says: “ The 
blessed thing isn’t true ’’—‘‘ It never happened.” 
Although, believe me, I wish I could write a novel; 
so startling that the world would turn aside to read 
it and so lucrative that I should never be in want 
while “in this vale of tears,’? but that gift has not 
been granted to me. What I lack is imagination. 
My soul seems to be hungry for facts which are in 
the concrete and for events which are like girders 
of steel, and these facts and events I find in biog- 
raphy and autobiography. Biography will tell you 
two things. First, it will reveal to you in what re- 
spect you are like most people and, second, it will 
inform you with reference to certain particulars in 


84 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


respect to which you are different from most peo- 
ple. Two things certainly worth knowing. Read 
biography. Read autobiography. Read these and 
you will never be discouraged, for the one lesson to 
be learned from the universal history of great souls 
is this—that every great character in the history of 
the world has been compelled to fight his way 
through the dark wilderness of discouragement. 
Read the story of the heroic Livingstone and in the 
darkest hour of your life there will come to you a 
strange new source of light and power. 

7. In selecting solid literature read what you like 
to read, and not what other people suggest or 
recommend. ‘There is in the great storehouse of 
universal literature a special provision for your 
particular and individual needs. Dr. T. DeWitt 
Talmage affirmed that one of the important turning 
points in his life was when he entered a bookstore 
in Syracuse, New York, and purchased a volume 
entitled: ‘“‘ The Beauties of John Ruskin.” It was 
only a volume of extracts, but it set his soul on fire. 
After that he bought all of Ruskin’s works: “ Eth- 
ics of the Dust,” ‘The Crown of Wild Olives,” 
‘“‘ Modern Painters,” “The King of the Golden 
River,” “‘ The Stones of Venice ” and ‘“ The Seven 
Lamps of Architecture.” 

8. Remember there is something about reading a 
book which is more permanent in its effect than in 
the reading of periodical literature. We throw 
away a magazine, but we keep a book. A book 


BOOKS 85 


standing on yonder shelf, day by day, seems to 
challenge our attention. It reminds us of all it has 
ever suggested to us, and if we have marked its im- 
portant passages, it is a persistent reminder of 
great thoughts and valuable inspirations. It is also 
the record, to a certain extent, of our intellectual 
progress, and very often serves as a book of refer- 
ence in the development of a new subject, theme 
or topic. 

9. The best time for a brief reading of solid liter- 
ature is just before you retire. What you read or 
think just before you go to sleep soaks into the 
mental fiber during the night. A Montreal million- 
aire boasted that he always ‘“‘ thought out” the 
great problems of his perplexing business affairs 
between eleven o’clock at night and two o’clock in 
the morning, his theory being that there is just 
about so much brain-ether in the air during the 
night or day, and that at night there is less of it 
being used and therefore if he did his thinking be- 
tween eleven and two he would have more than the 
normal allowance—more than his share, as it were, 
and like the typical millionaire that was exactly the 
thing he was after. Perhaps the millionaire was 
right. Of one thing we are sure, whatever your 
mood is when you retire that mood remains with 
you during the silent watches of the night and gives 
color to your dreams. 

10. Always have on hand a volume of brief epi- 
grams. Epigrams are like pepper and salt—the 


86 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


spice of literature. Ralph Waldo Emerson is the 
philosopher of the short sentence. He congests a 
great thought in a few words. The man who thinks 
in short sentences, thinks clearly. Mark every brief 
line which strikes you forcibly. Coin suggestive 
epigrams of your own. Con these over when you 
are too tired to do anything else. They will come 
to you as you walk from your home to your office 
and by their help you will be able to formulate a 
philosophy of life. In public speaking they will 
help you greatly. 

11. The best book is a notebook, in which you 
can write and paste all the good things you can find. 
Every great orator, politician, statesman and lit- 
erary character, almost to a man, has owned a 
notebook. In the notebook have been stored away 
suggestive outlines, important facts, beautiful quo- 
tations, unusual information and all the particular 
ammunition of a strong mind. A man must be very 
tired who cannot review his “ notebook ” for a few 
moments before wandering off into dreamland. 

III. Why Should We Read? 1. Solid reading is 
brain food. And the brain must be fed. Health is 
generated in the brain as well as in the body. A 
new idea sends a health-thrill all through the phys- 
ical frame. Man cannot live by bread alone, he 
must have a new thought occasionally. An inspira- 
tion is a nerve tonic. A few moments of solid read- 
ing tends toward mental adjustment. Men who 
suicide are the victims of one idea. We need the 


BOOKS 87 


breath of a new thought and the vitalizing sea air 
of a great suggestion, mentally received and spirit- 
ually absorbed. 

2. Solid reading, at first, is difficult reading and, 
therefore, strengthens the brain fiber. Emerson 
says: “‘ Do the thing which you are afraid to do.” 
Do the thing which is hard to do. Do the thing 
which is difficult to do. Thus you will rise superior 
to the dead level of average humanity. Once upon 
a time I said to the daughter of a wealthy manufac- 
turer: ‘“‘ You ought to read Drummond’s ‘ Natural 
Law in the Spiritual World "—it’s a great book— 
but you can skip the preface, it is cold, technical, 
scientific, deep, and hard to be understood.” But 
the father turned on me immediately with the sug- 
gestive remark: ‘‘ My daughter, if she acts on my 
advice, will skip nothing—she will begin at the be- 
ginning and read the book through; and if there is 
any part of the book more difficult than another, 
she will concentrate on that portion until she has 
conquered it.” My wealthy friend was right. We 
need brain exercise. Our minds are stimulated to 
higher achievements by intellectual effort. The 
effort to read a solid, thought-saturated book will 
pry open new crevasses in your brain. What we 
need is new brain tracks and new intellectual ave- 
nues of adventure. If a book be standard, read it, 
even though it be hard to read. 

3. Your spiritual wealth is composed of great 
ideas mentally absorbed. What you do enters into 


88 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


the warp and woof of your character. What you 
think adds to the sum total of your spiritual wealth. 
The only thing you will carry to heaven with you is 
your character and the sum total of all you have 
seen, observed, read and thought. The mind is the 
only canoe that will ever cross the river of death. I 
trust that our friend Rockefeller has been ‘ im- 
proving his mind” for “the richest man in the 
world ” will be classified in the spirit realm accord- 
ing to his soul worth and brain treasures. Cash 
will not count in the clearing house of the region 
celestial. Only ideas will count in heaven. 

4, The more you know about solid literature the 
better you will understand the Bible. A cultured 
man will always find more in a splendid edifice like 
Westminster Abbey than an ignorant grave-digger 
who never looks up beyond the clods he is lifting. 
The best student of the Bible is the man who un- 
derstands, best, the laws of literature—and even 
literature is governed by law. | 

The power of a great book is the power of a great 
personality. After nearly two thousand years of 
art, literature, philosophy, statesmanship, science 
and civilization—speaking of the highest and the 
_ best—there is only One Book and One Personality. 
Only in the Book of Books can you read such 
words as these: “Take my yoke upon you and 
learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart; and 
ye shall find rest unto your souls; for my yoke is 
easy and my burden is light.” 


VIII 


ELOQUENCE 


Yoeot 
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AMAL Wie Y Mua ake ed) 
Tw 08 IN ie EY 


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VIII 
ELOQUENCE 


PWRHE pulpit is the throne of eloquence. 
ri) ts_ There is no substitute for good preach- 
4 yas) ing. A cold pulpit means a dead pew. 
é ~<2% A preacher without a message means a 
ered without influence. Perfection of organiza- 
tion will never atone for a lack of power just be- 
hind the sacred desk. The “ tongue of fire ” is the 
consecration of great thoughts winged with all the 
force of an earnest soul. Rev. William Perkins 
wrote on every book in his library: ‘‘ Thou art a 
preacher of the Word, mind thy business.” 

Every great city has produced a great preacher, 
Knox in Edinburgh, Spurgeon in London, Calvin in 
Geneva, Savonarola in Florence, Beecher in Brook- 
lyn, Phillips Brooks in Boston and Thomas Chal- 
mers in Glasgow. The modern metropolis needs 
a prophet just as surely as Daniel was needed in 
Babylon. 

An orator! A living man before living men! 
What can equal the effect of the human voice, when 
soul touches soul and the spirit takes fire within. 
An orator imparts life, force, vigor, vitality and 
strength. The words of the speaker are as subtle 


91 





92 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


as radium in the rock, as distinct as the lightning in 
the cloud, as strong as the current in the sea and as 
tenacious as the lingering notes of unforgetable 
music. 

The orator possesses a secret. It is the gift of 
thinking aloud. It is the talent for thought impar- 
tation. It is the faculty for mental arousement. It 
is the genius for spiritual reciprocity. An orator 
deals in thought, plays on words, and by symbol, 
gesture, and idea operates upon the human mind 
for instruction, entertainment and inspiration. Em- 
erson, who was a skillful writer but an imperfect 
speaker, exclaimed, as he listened to Wendell Phil- 
lips rolling out his well-modulated sentences, with 
point, polish and precision: “Jf I only knew his 
secret! ”’ 

It has been said that there are three things which 
provide a platform for the true orator, namely, a 
great subject, a great occasion and a great audi- 
ence. The Puritan preachers selected great sub- 
jects. ‘They were prone to preach on the four 
‘Last Things.” ‘They rang the changes on Death, 
Judgment, Heaven, and Hell. A great subject is 
the foundation of a great discourse. A great theme 
dignifies the man who presents it. 

A great occasion provides the opportunity. 
Numbers, place, subject, personalities and an im- 
pending crisis, create an atmosphere surcharged 
with electricity. A spectator, sitting in the House 
of Commons, at a great crisis in English history, 


ELOQUENCE 93 


even such an historic occasion as the trial of 
Warren Hastings, exclaims: ‘“‘ If I live fifty years 
it will be impossible to blot out the impression. 
It was like seeing Cesar stabbed in the Senate 
chamber.” 

There is also a numerical effect to be considered. 
Mobology is not to be sneered at. There is a psy- 
chology of the crowd. The weight of an audience, 
for wholesome effects, is proportionate to its nu- 
merical strength. A large audience lends dignity 
and power to the words of an orator. There are 
certain accomplishments and results which belong 
to large congregations. Theological students should 
take a course in the science of how to get folks to 
“turn out and turn in.” There is peculiar power 
in a large audience. ‘‘ Hearing the crowd pass by 
he asked what it meant.”” Moody knew the psy- 
chology of the crowd. In announcing the hymn 
‘Oh for a Thousand Tongues to Sing,” he once ex- 
claimed, ‘“‘ Thank God we have ten thousand here 
tonight! ” 


I. EQUIPMENT 


First, Voice. Thomas Carlyle says Oliver Crom- 
well had “a sharp and untunable voice ”—better 
that, than a sweet, soothing, apologetic delivery. 
Better a voice with a “rasp ” in it than a style of 
articulation which sinks into an oratorical lullaby. 
A voice which is calculated to stir, arouse, quicken, 
and sometimes annoy, is a very effective instru- 


94 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


ment. I believe William Lloyd Garrison had such 
a voice.. The direct influence of an orator’s person- 
ality is only limited by the carrying power of his 
voice. George Whitefield possessed a voice which 
had in it “a note of thunder.”’ Daniel O’Connell’s 
voice was said to be strong enough to command an 
audience of one hundred thousand persons standing 
in an open field. It was a wonderful voice. T. 
DeWitt Talmage, the great American pulpiteer, 
had a voice which would ‘“‘ wake the dead.” It 
sounded through the rafters like a bugle blast. His 
pulpit was surrounded by deaf people who could 
hear only the thunderous voice of the great Brook- 
lyn divine. There is tremendous power in a voice. 
‘“ The voice of one crying in the wilderness, saying, 
‘Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make his paths 
straight.’ ” 

A friend informed me that, being present in the 
great Democratic Convention which nominated 
William Jennings Bryan for the presidency of the 
United States, he noted the peculiar circumstances 
which made possible the splendid oratorical tri- 
umph of the young politician from Nebraska. The 
day was intensely hot. The auditorium was vast. 
The surging crowd had waited in vain for one com- 
manding speech. One half of the audience had 
failed to hear, distinctly, a single speech which had 
been delivered. Suddenly there appeared the stal- 
wart form of the Nebraskan. It was the only 
speech that day which could be heard, and William 


ELOQUENCE 95 


Jennings Bryan entered the Temple of Fame as 
one of the world’s greatest orators. 

Second, Articulation. An orator should have a 
good dentist. Teeth determine tone. The clear 
enunciation of each. word is a fine point in public 
speaking. A distinct utterance is far reaching. 
You may speak loud and not be heard. There is 
music in a word when it is well spoken. It was 
said concerning the oratory of Daniel Webster that 
“every word weighed a pound.” 

John Ashe, whom Thomas Carlyle has made 
famous, in speaking to a motion to thank a 
preacher who had addressed Parliament on a cer- 
tain fast day, remarked: ‘“ What is the use of 
thanking a preacher who spoke so low that nobody 
could hear him? ”’ A practical question, that! 

Third, Vocabulary. There is a science of lan- 
guage. An orator should know the weight of a 
word. There is color, size, music and atmosphere 
inaword. The adjective is the qualifying member. 
Some public speakers have a genius in the use of 
the adjective. Words are thought-symbols. How 
Robert Louis Stevenson loved and studied words! 
The richer your vocabulary the more expressive 
are your forms of speech. The man who uses 
words carelessly is not a clear thinker. 

Poetry is the perfection of prose. Poetry is the 
musical combination of words. There is always a 
poetical quality in the utterances of a great orator. 
There is a certain sweep and swing—a peculiar 


96 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


rhythmical cadence which is powerful in its appeal. 
Isaiah is the world’s greatest orator. He of all 
spokesmen possessed the richest vocabulary. How 
musical are his sentences—how winsome his words! 
His paragraphs are rich in color, symbol and al- 
lusion. His climaxes are the creations of the high- 
est order. How beautiful are his sentences: ‘‘ The 
wilderness shall blossom as the rose.” “ Arise, 
shine for thy light is come ”—“ He shall feed his 
flock like a shepherd ”—“ The isles shall wait for 
thy law ”—‘‘ Awake, Awake, put on thy beautiful 
garments, oh Jerusalem! ” There is a touch of 
genius in every utterance of Isaiah. 

Fourth, A well equipped mind. An orator can 
never know too much. Words, ideas, incidents, 
events, facts, theories and suggestions have all their 
relative value to the public speaker. The most ig- 
norant man in the community may be able to tell 
you something which you ought to know. 

The genius of the orator is in his ability to 
marshall his facts and organize his ideas. Daniel 
Webster, referring to his most famous speech, his 
Reply to Haynes, affirmed that all that he had ever 
read, memorized, seen, imagined or known, took 
fire in his brain. There is no inspiration without 
preparation and general information is sometimes 
as important as the facts, figures and statistics 
gathered in general preparation. 

Fifth, Practice. The man who aspires to be an 
orator will never despise an opportunity to speak in 


ELOQUENCE 97 


public. Audiences must be studied. Auditoriums 
must be measured. You can do some things with 
a crowd which would appear ridiculous if perpe- 
trated on a parlor group. WNaturalness of style 
suits every emergency, but there is an elevation of 
tone and a peculiar animation of spirit necessitated 
by the great audience and supreme occasion. 
Practice and practice only, produces an orator. 
Wendell Phillips, the finest type of an agitator 
which an American audience has ever listened to, 
‘“‘ spoke every day for fourteen years.” He knew 
a popular audience in its moods, tricks, tem- 
perament, and changing atmosphere. He knew 
each note in the keyboard. He was a master of 
assemblies. : 
Young man, get on your feet! Fair maiden, 
speak for your Master! There is great joy in 
the exercise of a gift. John B. Gough received 
seventy-five cents for his first lecture. It scarcely 
paid his expenses, but he had made a discovery— 
he could speak in public. In that hour he learned 
that he had in his possession “ the secret of an 
orator’s success.” He could make folks think, 
laugh, weep and act according to his mood and 
passion. It was a great discovery. From that 
moment he never lacked occasion, opportunity and 
an audience. Happy hour! The reformed drunk- 
ard found that he had friends, funds, influence, and 
an open door. He had come to his own. What 
others felt he could express. He had power to 


98 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


interest, entertain, instruct and move. Great dis- 
covery, that! 


II. THE ELEMENTS OF AN ORATOR’S POWER 


First, Character. Perhaps we should use an- 
other word—sincerity. What you are is ten thou- 
sand times more important than what you say. 
When an ancient philosopher once said that the 
secret of an orator’s success was threefold, first, 
action; second, action; and third, action; he meant 
first, Character, second, Character, and third, 
Character. 

‘“‘ Character’ is what a man is. Reputation is 
what a man is supposed to be. Henry Ward 
Beecher said: ‘“‘ If I were a better man I could 
preach a better sermon.” General Beaver silenced 
a hissing audience in Western Pennsylvania by 
holding up his crutch and exclaiming: “ I won this 
at Chancellorsville.”’ 

Second, Courage. Emerson has said: ‘ God 
offers to every man his choice between truth and 
repose.” The most sensational thing a man can do 
is to tell the truth. A certain Dr. Campbell once 
said to Charles G. Finney, the great evangelist, in 
the spirit of criticism: ‘‘ You did not say anything 
that somebody else could not have said just as 
well.” ‘“ Ah,” said Mr. Finney, “ But would they 
have said it?” Luther said to Erasmus: ‘‘ You de- 
sire to walk upon eggs without crushing them.” 
The over-cautious man never moves his auditors 


ELOQUENCE 99 


An orator must risk his popularity in order to re- 
tain his power. 

William Carey arose in a conference of ecclesi- 
astical brethren and asked the question: ‘‘ Has the 
time not come for the church to do something for 
the salvation of the heathen?” My, what a bomb 
shell! The sleeping saints arose to strike back. 
Who was this young mechanic who dared to dis- 
turb the harmony of the meeting? ‘Sit down, 
young man,” said Dr. Ryland, a venerable brother, 
‘when God desires to convert the heathen He will 
do it without consulting you; sit down! ” But the 
young cobbler stood up like a flag pole on a state 
capitol. His backbone was equal to his breadth of 
vision. His courage was equal to his opportunity. 

Third, Originality. Originality is style, manner, 
and personality, allin one. Originality is your way 
of putting things—your way of feeling. Carlyle 
says: “If you would be original be sincere ’”—but 
it takes more than sincerity to guarantee original- 
ity. Originality is condensation. It’s putting ina 
sentence what another would spread through a 
paragraph. The original speaker takes a short cut 
to the human heart. He puts it in a nutshell. And 
he may do it by a wink, phrase, or a gesture. No 
orator should consent to speak in a shadow. The 
expression of the face is fifty per cent. An actor 
knows the value of the footlights. 

The surest guarantee of originality is in the 
freshness of new or unusual thoughts. Unearthing 


100 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


a new thought or putting an old truth in a new form 
always grips an audience. Reduce the number of 
words and increase the proportion of thought. 
When Booker T. Washington was about to deliver 
his first important address in Boston, that center of 
culture and education, he asked his friend, General 
Armstrong, to advise him as to its preparation. 
The general phrased his advice in a brief, pregnant 
sentence. He said: “ Booker, give them an idea 
for every word.” There was to be no “ mouthing,” 
no violent gestures, no “‘ sawing the air,” no won- 
derful paragraphs, but quality—‘‘an idea for 
every word.” 

The brightest, most sparkling, iridescent, heat- 
generating, force-producing, light-giving, life-im- 
parting thing in the universe is am idea. When the 
preachers in a convention of Christian workers 
asked D. L. Moody how to reach the masses, he 
answered: “ Give them something! ” When folks 
know what you are going to say, before you say it, 
you have lost your grip. There is an element of 
surprise in good public speaking. ‘The genuine 
orator is apt to put his thoughts in an unexpected 
way. He turns a corner just when you imagined 
‘hat he would march right on—and the jar wakes 
you up! 

Fourth, Magnetism. An orator deals with a psy- 
chological secret. He is a miracle worker. He im- 
»arts physical vitality and spiritual life. He is a 
mental sensationalist. He produces a thrill which 


ELOQUENCE 101 


can be felt if not seen. He generates electricity as 
a swiftly revolving wheel flings off vibrations. The 
lad remarked to his mother after he had listened to 
Henry Ward Beecher for an hour: “ I don’t under- 
stand what he means, but I feel better.”” Magnet- 
ism is the touch of a soul on fire. 

Fifth, Earnestness. There is nothing so digni- 
fied as an earnest man. Theodore L. Cuyler, that 
grand old man of Presbyterianism, once said to five 
hundred theological students, “‘ Young men, if you 
can convince your hearers that you have only one 
object in view and only one motive in your mind, 
namely, to do good and save souls, you will kill all 
the critics in your congregation within ten minutes 
after you have announced your text.” Soul- 
earnestness has a soul saving effect. Wit may 
sparkle in the crown of a genius and humor may 
help a traveling evangelist but, for the preacher, 
nothing wears like downright earnestness. 

Sixth, Passion. Passion is earnestness at white 
heat. Robert Murray M’Cheyne died at the early 
age of twenty-eight. His influence on Scotland was 
tremendous. He preached ‘‘as though he was 
almost dying to have men saved.” A stranger 
visited the old church in Dundee in which 
M’Cheyne used to preach, and inquired with refer- 
ence to his methods of study. Said the venerable 
old sexton to the stranger: ‘‘ Come into this room,” 
as he led the way into the study. ‘‘ Now place the 
book on the table ”—“‘ Now, arrange the chair ”— 


102 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


‘“‘ Now, sit down ”—‘‘ Now, bend over the book ” 
—‘ Now, then, let the tears fall.” That was the 
way M’Cheyne studied. 

In the notes of the monk who reported the ser- 
mons of Savonarola are these words: “ At this 
point in his discourse I was overcome by weeping 
and could not go on.” Jonathan Edwards used a 
manuscript, but he wept over it and on the pulpit 
notes of the famous New England divine may be 
found tear-stains. He, too, was “ almost dying ” 
to have men saved. Remember the memorable 
phrase of Richard Baxter: 


“T’d preach as though I ne’er should preach 
again 
As a dysng man to dying men.” 


Sixth, Abandonment. Abandonment is absolute 
self-forgetfulness. Emerson went to church one 
stormy morning and watched a mid-winter cyclone 
as it swept around a New England meeting house. 
He complained that the storm was real while the 
preacher was not. Cold, formal and lifeless, the 
ministet drolled out his theological platitudes while 
the philosopher of a new transcendentalism ex- 
claimed: ‘‘Oh, for abandonment! ” He was in 
search of reality, and found it not. 

Luther once remarked: “‘ When I am angry I 
can pray well and preach well.” A man is prone to 
be eloquent in grief, love and anger. It is then that 
he unlocks the secret chambers of his soul. The 


ELOQUENCE 103 


Earl of Chatham rises from his couch, with arm in 
sling, and ventures into Parliament to participate 
in a debate. Ina moment of excitement, all uncon- 
scious of his physical ailment, he snatches his arm 
from the sling and presents a closed fist to his 
political opponents. Such abandonment would 
hardly fair to impress the staunchest foe. There is 
a recklessness which is sublime. When the young 
Anglican clergyman was warned by Bishop Laving- 
ton that if he did not cease preaching like John 
Wesley and his followers he would “ take away his 
gown,” the young enthusiast replied: “I can 
preach without a gown.” God grant us the gift of 
a consecrated recklessness. Fearlessness! Aban- 
donment! A soul unfettered in the expression 
of truth! 

The supreme secret of an orator’s success is to 
reach the heart and conscience by the positive pro- 
clamation of a great truth. The true orator knows 
the shortest road to the heart and conscience. 

John the Beloved makes a valuable contribution 
to our subject in the seventh chapter of his Gospel 
—seventh verse—“ In the last day, that great day 
of the feast, Jesus stood and cried, if any man 
thirst let him come unto me and drink.” What an 
eloquent appeal to a tired, weary, thirsty world. 
The thronging multitude, crowding the courts of 
the temple, on that last, great day of the feast 
heard the most eloquent voice of history. ‘‘ Never 
man spake like this man.” — 


104 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


“Far, far away, like bells at evening pealing, 
The voice of Jesus sounds o'er land and sea.” 


The history of any one generation in any one 
realm may be congested in one name and character. 

The records of war are written in the names of 
the world’s great generals. Literature turns over 
its breathing pages in the lives and lines of the 
world’s greatest penmen. Art paints a picture of 
itself in the mysterious autographs of the world’s 
greatest artists. Eloquence speaks forth in the 
names of earth’s silver-tongued, golden-mouthed, 
lightning-shod, and thunder-sceptered children of 
men. 

Every century produces three men—prophet, 
philosopher, and poet. John the Baptist, Jesus the 
Nazarene, and Paul the Apostle to the Gentiles. 
First, the one who prepares men to think; second, 
the one who gives men something to think about; 
and third, the one who records and classifies 
thought and gives it to the world. 

God never acts extemporaneously. The right 
man is never extemporized for an emergency. A 
crisis never makes a man—it reveals him. God 
has a man for every emergency and an emergency 
for every man. 


IX 


PREACHING 





IX 


PREACHING 





< NY FESAR left to the citizens of Rome 
¢ fe ane ‘and to their heirs forever,” all his 

G2 private walks, all his private arbors, 

Sal all his new planted orchards “ on this 
side’ the Tiber. Matthew Henry is referring toa 
greater will and a grander personality when he says 
that Jesus Christ in His will bequeathed “‘ His soul 
to His Father, His body to Joseph of Arimathea, 
His clothes to the Roman soldiers, His mother to 
the care of John the Beloved, and to His disciples 
the gift of eternal peace.” And we might add, to 
the world He left His character, the grandest be- 
quest of the ages. 

“That was a glorious moment in the history of 
the world,” says Ralph Waldo Emerson, “ when all 
that was best in the spiritual experience of the past 
was gathered up and illuminated in one transcen- 
dent Personality.” Herein we find the Gospel, and 
the Gospel is the most wonderful, the most power- 
ful, the most fascinating and the most beautiful 
thing which ever came into the world; and its proc- 
lamation is the divinest business to be found be- 
neath the stars. Who would not be a heaven-sent, 


107 


108 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


fore-ordained, spirit-crowned preacher of the ever- 
lasting Gospel of the Son of God? » 

And yet no profession is open to such cruel, per- 
sistent and unreasonable criticism as the ministry. 
Because a man stands in a pulpit he therefore be- 
comes a shining mark for the witticism and criti- 
cism of every passer-by. ‘There is no man so 
ignorant that he cannot tell you how a sermon 
ought to be constructed. The social evolution of 
the modern preacher is well set forth by our friend 
the evangelist, Dr. L. W. Munhall—“ At thirty he 
is idolized, at forty he is criticized, at fifty he is 
martyrized, at sixty he is osler-ized, and at seventy 
he is canonized.” Congratulate yourself, oh 
prophet of God, if ever you reach the last stage 
in this remarkable succession of events! 

Current literature grows heavy with the weari- 
some, drearysome, persistent and perpetual af- 
firmations concerning the intellectual stupidity or 
the personal eccentricities of the pulpit occupant. 
Every criticism of a negative sort is matched by an 
animadversion equally positive and outspoken. 
Who has not made a contribution to the universal 
symposium concerning the deficiencies and short- 
comings of the individual who sits enthroned just 
behind that ancient piece of furniture known as the 
“sacred desk”? ‘I have been to church and I 
am not depressed,” remarks Robert Louis Steven- 
son, as though the experience were an unusual one. 
Even Dwight L. Moody, in an ordinary conversa- 


PREACHING 109 


tion, inquires of a friend, in an off-hand manner, 
‘ James, did you ever sit in the pew on Sunday, and 
looking toward the pulpit, feel that if you could 
exchange places with the Rev. Mr. So-and-so 
for half an hour, you could do the job better 
yourself? ” 

And who has not heard the apt allusion once 
made to the manifest weakness of the present-day 
pulpit by Dr. Charles H. Parkhurst, of New York, 
when he affirms that ‘on the day of Pentecost 
three thousand sinners were converted under one 
sermon, while now it takes about three thousand 
sermons to convert one sinner.” This brilliant 
allusion, of course, ignores the fact that the day 
of Pentecost was preceded by three years of the 
most thorough and persistent evangelistic preach- 
ing which the world has ever known. The minis- 
try of Jesus, which ended in His rejection and 
Crucifixion, made Pentecost a possibility... But 
the climax of all criticism is reached when the 
objector has a personal reason for his reflection 
on the professional character of the one who was 
once regarded as the Man of God and the prophet 
of Jehovah. Perhaps the best illustration of this 
class is to be found in the words of Lord Mel- 
bourne, who, in referring to an eloquent but ag- 
gressive preacher of his day, said: ‘“‘ He is one of 
those pestilent fellows who seems to think that 
religion has something to do with a man’s private 
life.” 


110 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


———— 


Exactly! Strike the peculiar eccentricities of a 
man’s private life and moral shortcomings—and 
then, oh preacher, stand up and receive your sen- 
tence! Which do you prefer, a social “ death 
sentence ” or the imprisonment of a financial em- 
barrassment for “an indefinite term” or forty 
stinging “lashes”? from the tongue of the social 
dictator of an offended clique centering in the 
ecclesiastical edifice over which you preside? 
Take your choice! 

But to drop from the general to the particular — 
we have the usual suggestions, which find their ex- 
pressions in certain negative propositions to the 
effect that a sermon ought not to be “ too prosy,”’ 
“too dry,” ‘too deep,” “too profound,” “ too 
long,” ‘too dull,” nor ‘too flowery.” However, 
the preacher has one source of practical satisfac- 
tion, namely—the sermon which does not suit you 
may prove an uplift and an inspiration to your 
neighbor. A biographical sermon on the character 
of Lord Byron once brought me two epistles, both 
of which arrived on a Christmas morning. The 
first letter was in the form of a scathing rebuke for 
the preacher who would desecrate his pulpit by 
preaching on such an unholy character as Byron 
“on the Lord’s day.” The other letter was full 
of enthusiastic expressions of appreciation for a 
preacher who could find in the life af a famous 
poet so many telling illustrations of a practical 
and vital Christianity. The writer of the second 


PREACHING 111 


epistle enclosed his check for ten dollars as a 
“feeble”? but substantial expression of the great 
help which he had received. I put the two let- 
ters on the scale—struck an average and cashed 
the check. 

All classes are to be found in the regular church 
assembly, and each class in the congregation has its 
own predilection and preference for a certain style 
of sermon—the child wants a simple sermon; the 
boy, a lively sermon; the maiden a beautiful ser- 
mon; the woman, a thoughtful sermon; the busi- 
ness man, a practical sermon; the student, a logical 
sermon. The broken-hearted and bereaved never 
fail to appreciate a sermon which is comforting 
and sympathetic. 

What a strange mixture of varying needs, di- 
versified desires and undefined aspirations are 
registered in the atmosphere of the average Sunday 
morning or Sunday evening congregation. There 
is the scholar who is worrying about his examina- 
tions, and there is the clerk who is anxious about 
his new position, and over yonder the man who has 
a note to meet tomorrow, and right under the rear 
gallery a mother who is anxious about a sick child, 
and just here to the right of the preacher, a father 
whose boy is wandering and just beyond yonder 
pillar of steel, a wife, whose husband is beginning 
to yield to the blighting influence of some subtle 
stimulant. Where is the pulpit orator who shall 
embrace all these in the arms of his affection and 


112 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


sympathy and lift them into the seventh heaven of 
a spiritual exaltation? 

Add to all this the unlooked for event, as when 
the preacher is surprised by the sudden appearance 
in his congregation of a distinguished citizen of 
high honor in the state or province, or a certain 
educationalist of note or importance, or it may be 
a well known doctor of divinity who is a recog- 
nized authority on the very subject to which you 
purpose devoting the usual time allotted for sermon 
or discourse. Such was Spurgeon’s experience 
when he found England’s Grand Old Man, William 
Ewart Gladstone, in his Metropolitan Tabernacle. 
He says in his autobiography, in referring to the 
event, “‘ I felt like a boy preaching in the presence 
of his father.”” How wise was the great reformer, 
Martin Luther, when, under a similar embarrass- 
ment, while preaching in a cathedral church in 
Germany, he exclaimed, “ I perceive in the church 
this morning, Melanchthon and other learned doc- 
tors of divinity. By their permission I shall forget 
that they are here and preach to the multitude.” 
That’s a wise thing to do, “ preach to the multi- 
tude ’—and better still, never let Melanchthon and 
his colleagues know that you are conscious of their 
presence. Preach to the multitude! 

There are in every congregation certain “ hear- 
ers’ who are never quite satisfied with a sermon 
unless the preacher has something to say on special 
themes, which, for some reason or other, appeal to 


PREACHING 113 


them with peculiar force. They are anxious that 
you should “ do ” the Roman Catholics, or “‘ touch 
up ” the Mormons, or “ dress down” the higher 
critics, or announce the Lord’s return, or sing the 
praises of Labor, or sound the trumpet of Social- 
ism, or expound the doctrine of Holiness. ‘‘ Young 
man,” said a stanch advocate of some particular 
theory of a perfect life, to me, as I entered a Nova 
Scotia community—‘‘ Young man, do you believe 
in holiness? ” I informed the brother that I most 
certainly did, and he vouchsafed the information 
to me in a most enthusiastic manner and with a 
most vigorous application of the palm of his heavy 
hand on the back of my anatomy—somewhere be- 
tween the shoulder blades—that I was a man after 
his own heart. I remember his approving phrase— 
“Then you are the man for me, the man for me; 
Yes, sir, the man for me! ” Alas, what a poor 
specimen of a preacher a man would be who did not 
believe in holiness. Yes, I believe in holiness, but, 
thank God, not in the particular ‘‘ brand” repre- 
sented by my friend in Nova Scotia. Holiness is 
wholeness. 

There are five typical sermons, if sermons can be 
divided into any general classification—(1) The 
Literary Sermon—a sermon devoted to the logic 
and philosophy of the vital truths of Christianity, 
presented in a fine literary form and embellished 
with poetry and appropriate metaphor. (2) The 
Topical Sermon—a sermon which deals with a sub- 


114 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


ject rather than a text and in which a number of 
striking thoughts are presented, all bearing on the 
same subject or theme. (3) The Textual Sermon 
—a sermon in which the preacher deals with cer- 
tain thoughts or truths suggested by some particu- 
lar passage or text of Scripture, wherein special 
emphasis is placed, as a rule, on one short Scrip- 
tural sentence. (4) The Expository Sermon—a 
sermon in which a passage of Scripture is ex- 
pounded, explained and commented upon. (5) 
The Simple Gospel Sermon—a sermon of the evan- 
gelistic type in which four fundamental facts are 
usually dealt with—First, the sinfulness of man. 
Second, man’s lost and therefore dangerous condi- 
tion aS an unrepentant and unforgiven sinner. 
Third, the presentation of Jesus Christ as the 
Mediator between God and man, the only remedy 
for sin and the only means of escape from the 
power and penalty of sin. Fourth, an appeal for 
an immediate decision based on the uncertainty of 
life and the certain doom of those who pass beyond 
the border line of death without an interest in Jesus 
Christ as Redeemer and Saviour. 

The only kind of a sermon which a man can 
preach, successfully, is the kind which suits his own 
personality. Every preacher must find out what 
kind of a sermon is best suited to unlock the treas- 
ures of his mind and let loose the fires of his soul. 
Only that form of a sermon fits a man’s personality 
which leads him through a series of climaxes by 


PREACHING 115 





which the soul of the preacher imparts life to 
the heart of the parishioner. ‘That is a good 
sermon which does good. No man knows enough 
to tell a minister what kind of a sermon he ought 
to preach. God only can do that. ‘“ Go,” said 
Jehovah to Jonah—‘ Go preach the preaching that 
I bid thee.” 

Let a preacher find out what sort of an instru- 
ment he can handle the best and use that instru- 
ment even though his sermon be a compound of all 
styles of composition and a composite of all types 
of homiletical methods of procedure. When a 
critic informed Henry Ward Beecher that he occa- 
sionally violated the laws of grammar and did poor 
justice to the rules which govern correct speech, 
Beecher replied that he did not propose to let 
“grammar ” stand in the way of a genuine streak 
of eloquence. The sermon-tasters who waited on 
the ministry of Rowland Hill affirmed that he was 
‘“‘a rambling preacher,” but drunkards, prostitutes 
and social outcasts, under deep conviction of sin, 
attested the fact that he “ rambled ” divinely near 
the heart of the sinner. 

Many a man has failed in the ministry because, 
in his early days, he enthroned a certain sermonic 
ideal which did not fit his personality and adopted 
a type of discourse which robbed him of all the 
elements of a genuine originality. Ever and anon 
we are informed that the twin heroes of all pulpit 
achievement are textual and expository preachers, 


116 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


but we have known textual preachers who preached 
to empty pews and expository preachers who had 
everything in the way of ecclesiastical equipment, 
except a congregation. Let David kill the giant in 
his own way, and woe be to the preacher who has 
any style or method not his own. 

There is one particular sermon which seems to 
be in great demand in certain localities. It is 
known as the “ orthodox” sermon. An orthodox 
sermon is a sermon which is theologically sound, 
judged by all the standards of creed, catechism, 
doctrine and discipline. Thank God, the standards 
of orthodoxy change with every succeeding gener- 
ation. When a New England divine affirmed that 
there were infants in hell “a span long,” he was 
thoroughly orthodox, judged by the theological 
standards of his own generation. When the 
preachers of the Middle Ages taught that the saints 
in heaven would look down into hell and gloat over 
the excruciating tortures of the lost, they were 
thoroughly orthodox as the earnest believers of that 
day understood orthodoxy. But the world moves 
and we are compelled to move with it. 

We believe in heaven and hell just as thoroughly 
as we ever did, but the doctrine of future rewards 
and punishments we prefer to set forth in the scien- 
tific language of Thackeray—“ Sow a thought and 
reap an act, sow an act and reap a habit, sow a 
habit and reap a character, sow a character and 
reap an eternal destiny.” This is none the less 


PREACHING 117 





powerful in its appeal because it is reasonable in 
its presentation. 

When the theologians of the seventeenth century 
affirmed that God in His infinite mercy had elected 
a certain number of the human race to be saved 
and likewise an exact number to be hopelessly and 
eternally lost, they were thoroughly orthodox. 
When Roman Catholics murdered Protestants in 
dark dungeons and Protestants assigned Roman 
Catholics to the fagot and the stake, they were 
both engaged in a Lea ae orthodox line of 
business. 

The question today, however, is not “ Is it ortho- 
dox? ” but “Is it true?” A grain of truth is worth 
more than a ton of orthodoxy. When Paul said, 
‘* Preach the word,” he was making no reference to 
the Old Testament, which had fallen short of a full 
revelation of necessary truth, nor did he refer to 
the New Testament, which had not as yet come 
into existence. He had reference to certain funda- 
mental truths revealed in the life and teachings of 
Jesus Christ—The Word, The Thought, The Idea, 
The Ideal, The Truth. 

True Christian orthodoxy consists in loyalty to 
the truth as expounded and illustrated by Jesus 
Christ. That man only is heterodox who refuses to 
abide by the great master thoughts of the un- 
matched Galilean. Not a single new virtue has 
been invented, nor a single moral truth discovered, 
in two thousand years, which is not to be found in 


118 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


the teachings of Jesus. From the ideal Christian 
standpoint only that man is heterodox who rejects 
the teachings of Jesus Christ. | 

There is one sermon which seems to be univer- 
sally condemned. It bears the unsavory title of 
The Sensational Sermon. Of course we must add 
our voice to the universal condemnation of such a 
discourse and say to the young theological student, 
‘‘ Never preach a sensational sermon! ” Oh, can- 
didate for holy orders, beware of the sermon which 
is sensational! It stirs men up. It arouses the 
sluggish. It disturbs the lazy. It converts the 
sinner. It confounds the wicked. 

Of course you would not be guilty of preaching 
in a style so unconventional as that, would you? 
Sensational preaching—it might compel the people 
to think, and that would be dangerous. It might 
cause folks to talk, and that would be embarrass- 
ing. It might startle the neighborhood, and that 
would be annoying. And, it might cause empty 
seats to be occupied, and that would certainly be 
sad. Avoid the sensational! Get into the deep rut 
of ancient custom and stay there. When your 
friends want you they will know where to find you. 
Be prim. Be precise. Be conservative. Wear the 
straight-jacket of tradition and—look wise. 

And yet, to be frank, if there is one sermon I 
prefer above another it is the so-called sensational 
sermon. I never knew just what such a sermon 
was until one day I ran across it as though by acci- 


PREACHING 119 


dent. I was a youth of eighteen, and at that time 
residing in Philadelphia. I heard of a great 
preacher by the name of John Peddie, a Baptist; 
and although I was Scotch-Irish by birth and a 
Presbyterian by training, I ventured across the 
road of denominational prejudice to hear the much- 
talked-of pulpit orator. What a sensation swept 
over my soul. That was preaching worth while. 
Old truths began to live. Thought took fire and 
leaped from soul to soul. A subtle sort of fiery 
enthusiasm burned in the soul of the man behind 
the sacred desk—the preacher actually wept. My 
soul was stirred, my heart renewed and my life 
revolutionized. I looked forward to Sunday with 
an eager expectation which was new in my experi- 
ence. I never knew just exactly what had hap- 
pened until I told the wonderful story of the 
preacher’s influence on my life to a cultured woman 
who resided in the neighborhood, inquiring of her 
if she had ever heard the great man. No, indeed, 
she had not. To be “ real frank ” she had no use 
for “ sensational preachers.”’ So the secret was out 
and the wonder explained—-I had been listening to 
a sensational preacher. 

Recently I read of an incident in the life of 
Henry Ward Beecher, which impressed me. A 
mother in writing to her son in New York warned 
him of the dangers—the great temptations—which 
would beset the life of a youth in the great metrop- 
olis. Her advice might be condensed in the follow- 


120 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


ing pregnant sentences: “Don’t smoke. Don’t 
drink. Don’t play cards. Don’t gamble. Don’t 
go to the theatre, and, (as a final exhortation) 
Don’t go to hear that sensational Brooklyn 
preacher, Henry Ward Beecher.” ‘The young man 
reviewed the list and finally concluded that the 
least dangerous of the evils mentioned would be a 
visit to Plymouth Church, where the great Beecher 
held sway from Sunday to Sunday. ... Such 
preaching was a revelation to the soul of the young 
man. He had never before heard anything like it. 
The surrender of his heart, conscience and will was 
almost immediate. The next day he sent a tele- 
gram to his mother couched in the following words: 
“‘ Mother, I have heard Henry Ward Beecher and 
given my heart to God. Come and hear him!” I 
congest the application in one epigrammatic sen- 
tence—Sensation is better than stagnation. : 

There are three great sermons in the New Testa- 
ment and each produced a sensation. The fact is, 
they would not be found in the literature of the 
early church if a sensation had not been produced. 
There is a sensationalism of the flesh and there is 
a sensationalism of the spirit. There are three 
great sermons in the New Testament—(1) The 
Sermon on the Mount. (2) Peter’s Sermon on the 
Day of Pentecost. (3) Paul’s Sermon on Mars’ 
Hill. The Sermon on the Mount is literally alive 
with a strange, divine, original, common sense. 
Peter’s Sermon on the Day of Pentecost was his- 


PREACHING 121 


torical and biographical, packed full of history and 
biography. Paul’s Sermon on Mars’ Hill was 
philosophical—an argument for the existence of 
God. Jesus, in speaking to the common people, 
used common sense. Peter, in speaking to the 
Jews, employed incidents from Jewish history. 
Paul, in addressing the cultured Athenian, dealt 
out poetry and philosophy. The sermon of Jesus 
was an exhortation. Paul’s sermon was an argu- 
ment. Peter’s sermon was an appeal. 

Strange that these three great Scriptural sermons 
are without Scriptural texts. All three are alike in 
one respect, namely, each sermon concludes with a 
splendid application. Paul’s application is ex- 
pressed in these words: ‘“‘ Whom therefore ye igno- 
rantly worship, Him declare I unto you.” Peter’s 
application is set forth in the following energetic 
phraseology: ‘“‘ Repent and be baptized, every one 
of you, in the name of Jesus Christ.” While the 
application which concludes the Sermon on the 
Mount, the greatest sermon of history, is couched 
in such forceful words as these: ‘‘ Whosoever hear- 
eth these sayings of mine and doeth them, I will 
liken him unto a wise man which built his house 
on a rock.” 

There are three things which every parishioner 
has a right to look for in a sermon. First, life—it 
should be natural, humane and practical. Second, 
sympathy, it should comfort, console, inspire and 
uplift. Third, the touch of the eternal, it should be 


122 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


alive with the atmosphere of the unseen and bring 
men face to face with the Infinite. — 

A sermon ought to be a source of inspiration 
and encouragement for the troubled and perplexed. 
That was a revealing remark which a distinguished 
scholar addressed to Ian Maclaren—“ Your best 
work, in the pulpit, has been to put heart into men 
for the coming week.” ‘‘ Remember,” said a 
wealthy woman in New York to Gypsy Smith, just 
after he had preached to a parlor full of million- 
aires’ wives and daughters, ‘‘ Remember, that no 
matter how small your audience may be, there is 
somebody in it who is broken hearted.” No man 
is qualified to preach who has not heard ‘“ The 
still, sad music of humanity.” 


xX 


SACRAMENTS 





xX 


SACRAMENTS 





: It is not once 
to be ena in the Bible. It had its root meaning 
in the Latin word Sacramentum, which means an 
oath of allegiance. It was the custom of the 
Roman soldier, whenever possible, to return to the 
city of Rome every year and renew the oath of 
allegiance to Cesar, which he took when he became 
a soldier of the empire. 

Certain people are sacramentarians by tempera- 
ment. ‘They are so constituted that they must 
needs see the truth which they believe, illustrated 
and set forth in actual and visible forms, cere- 
monies and symbols, and every religion which has 
had an existence long enough to become historical 
has made some sort of suitable provision for the 
temperamental sacramentarian. 

The Old Testament Temple-service was embel- 
lished with a rich ceremonial; a ritual both rare 
and splendid, including feasts and fasts. The great 
day for prayer, fasting and confession was the Day 


125 


126 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


of Atonement. There were three great feasts. 
Two of these were historical in their significance, 
namely, (1) The Passover, observed in commemo- 
ration of the first and greatest event in Israelitish 
history, the passing over, or Israel’s exit from 
Egypt; (2) The Feast of Tabernacles, which was 
annually celebrated to keep in memory the thrilling 
and prolonged experiences of the twelve tribes 
while sojourning for a generation in “the waste 
howling wilderness.” The other great feast bore 
the name of Pentecost and was held in celebration 
of the wheat harvest, known in Biblical phrase- 
ology as the “ First Fruits.” 

Many attempts have been made in the history of 
the Christian Church to reproduce, in one form or 
another, the splendid system and elaborate details 
of the Old Testament ceremonial. The most con- 
spicuous example of this is to be found in the his- 
tory of Roman Catholicism. The sacraments of 
the Roman Catholic Church are seven in number: 
1. The Mass; 2. Baptism; 3. Confirmation; 4. 
Ordination; 5. Penance; 6. Marriage; 7. Extreme 
Unction. 

Evangelical Protestants, as a rule, have but 
two sacraments, namely, Baptism and the Lord’s 
Supper. 

There are three Protestant denominations in 
the world today without sacraments: First, the 
Friends, or Quakers. Second, The Salvation 
Army. Third, The Christian Science Church. 


SACRAMENTS 127 


_ The two sacraments which have been the sub- 
ject, cause and occasion of the most bitter discus- 
sion, division and dispute, are Baptism and the 
Lord’s Supper. 

Baptism existed before Christianity and origi- 
nated in Old Testament times. It was a mode of 
confession by which an adult convert signified that 
he had ended his old life and was, therefore, pre- 
pared to begin a new life. The convert, buried 
beneath the surface of the water, made a distinct 
confession of his sin and expressed his willingness 
to pledge an absolute severance from his past evil 
habits and sinful indulgences. The same convert 
lifted from the depths of the river, as one brought 
up out of the grave, signified his purpose and de- 
termination to live in the power of a new and 
divine relationship—dead to the past and alive to 
a higher calling. It was a beautiful symbol ‘and 
one easy of appropriation and incorporation by 
such an aggressive and energetic organization as 
the early church. 

Jesus, Himself, had small use for forms or cere- 
monies of any sort, yet He submitted to baptism at 
the hands of John. On the whole, however, He 
appears to have relegated the whole matter of 
an initiation rite to His disciples; while Paul, the 
apostle to the Gentiles, could recall the names of 
but two persons and one family whom he had ever 
baptized, and affirmed that Christ had sent him 
forth not to baptize, but to preach. 


128 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


Early Christianity laid a tremendous emphasis 
on the divine principle of a spiritual force and 
placed at a distinct discount all things formal and 
ceremonial. The influence of the life of Jesus of 
Nazareth was so overwhelmingly on the side of the 
real, the vital and the spiritual and such a distinct 
shock to all ceremonial and ritualistic systems that 
the vast, elaborate and magnificent ceremonial of 
the Mosaic dispensation, gave way, in the esteem 
and estimation of the early Christian church, and 
was replaced by one simple sacrament of a social 
nature and convenient character, namely, the 
Lord’s Supper. 

Right down through the history of the Church 
the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper has been re- 
garded as the supreme Christian sacrament—the 
one instituted by Jesus Christ. Among the Chris- 
tian sacraments almost every sacrament is in the 
form of a rite of initiation into some new relation- 
ship, the observation of which is initial in its 
character and necessitates no further repetition or 
future celebration. ‘There is only one sacrament 
which is perpetual in its operation. ‘ For as often 
as ye eat this bread and drink this cup ye do shew 
the Lord’s death till He come.” 

A sacrament, in its symbolism and ceremonial, 
is a human invention and intended to hold forth or 
illustrate a spiritual truth, or to seal and celebrate 
a new human relationship. No human symbol is 
of divine origin. Nature is the divine symbol. 


SACRAMENTS 129 


The whole thought of God is spelled out in the 
vast symbolism of nature. 

Every church may have its own symbolism and 
every organization its own ceremonial. Churches, 
and organizations of a so-called secular order, have 
lived and prospered without symbol, ceremonial or 
ritual. Whether organizations, secular or religious, 
have or have not a symbolical, ceremonial or sacra- 
mental system, is a matter of small importance to 
the Ruler of the universe. Forms are as necessary 
to an organization as clothes are to the human 
frame, but fashions change with the climate, geog- 
raphy, nationality and the changing customs of 
passing generations. Garments are a human neces- 
sity, but God has no preference for any particular 
fashion-plate in the realm of human cloaks, coats 
and mantles. When men ascend, like the prophet 
of old, up toward the spiritual realm, their mantles 
are thrown out over the fiery wheels of the chariot 
of a spiritual transfiguration. 

Symbolism is not the language of God, but of 
man. God does not care what language you speak 
if your thoughts are right. Every family has a 
right to create its own coat-of-arms; every navy 
has a right to design its own signals; every army 
has a right to select its own uniform; every na- 
tion has a right to weave its own flag; every society 
has a right to arrange its own ritual and every 
religion has a right to invent or adopt its own sym- 
bolism. Truth is divine; forms are human. If 


130 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


you are able to comprehend and grasp the truth, 
God does not care a farthing what your form of 
expression may be. See to it that you think right. 
Right thinking is the mother of right-doing, and 
wrong thinking is the mother of wrong-doing. You 
cannot think crooked and live straight. 

It is no more necessary to use the same forms 
which Jesus used than it is necessary to dress in 

‘the same garments which Jesus wore, or to speak 
the same language which Jesus spoke. It is pos- 
sible to dress like a man, and, at the same time, fail 
to produce a single resemblance to him in the mat- 
ter of mental power or spiritual quality. 

The sacrament of the Lord’s Supper may be ob- 
served in a dozen different ways; which way makes 
little difference to the Master so long as His spirit 
is enthroned in it. Marriage is by far the most 
serious of all sacraments, since it signifies the most 
vital human relationship on earth. You may have 
your marriage ceremony performed in the office of 
a Justice of the Peace, or in a Roman Catholic 
Cathedral, or in a Baptist chapel, or in a Presby- 
terian manse, or in a Congregational church, or in 
a Salvation Army barracks, or in that neat little 
cottage which you have furnished for your bride; 
and the ceremony, in each case, may vary to suit 
the temperamental sentiments of each particular 
party directly interested in the event; or you may 
follow the example of John Bright, and simply an- 
nounce your choice of a life partner in the presence 


SACRAMENTS 131 


of a roomful of friends and neighbors. In each 
case a marriage ceremony has been performed, and 
a sacrament observed, and in each case the laws of 
a Christian civilization have been recognized and 
complied with. 

Baptism is but a form of confession. Salvation 
is within the reach of the man who is earnest 
enough to believe and sincere enough to confess 
what he believes. There are a score of methods by 
which a man may confess his faith in Christ. He 
may step into a baptismal font, or kneel at a 
Methodist altar, or don a Salvation Army suit, or 
stand before a Presbyterian session, or confer with 
a Congregational pastor, or respond to an evangel- 
ist’s appeal, or place a card in the “ Personal ” col- 
umn of the daily paper stating his determination to 
lead a Christian life. One form is as good as 
another. One form is no better than another. 
Forms are not Scriptural because they were in use 
in Scriptural times. Only that is Scriptural which 
possesses a spiritual value. The Grand Old Book 
stands for the enthronement of certain great truths 
and not for the enforcement of a set of beautiful 
and appropriate symbols and ceremonials. 

The best forms and ceremonies are those which 
come about in a perfectly natural way. It was the 
social hour and the refreshing cup which Jesus 
turned into a sacrament. The change of the Chris- 
tian Sabbath from the seventh day of the week to 
the first day of the week was accomplished, in the 


132 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


providence of God, without a particle of human de- 
sign, effort, or organization. God moves along the 
pathway of the natural and the necessary. ‘The 
best form is the form which works the best. 

You will discover by a careful study of the Old 
Testament that physical and sanitary reasons ac- 
count for nine-tenths of the legal requirements of 
the old Mosaic ceremonial. There existed a phys- 
ical necessity for almost all the regulations, such 
aS pouring, washing and sprinkling. I have an 
idea, too, that the reason why John the Baptist 
baptized was because there was in that warm east- 
ern climate a physical necessity for such a cere- 
mony. The whole generation was sadly in need of 
a bath. Geography has a good deal to do with the 
symbolism of a man’s religion. If Christianity had 
originated at the North Pole, in the neighborhood 
of Peary’s last exploit and adventure, you would 
scarcely have heard of baptism by immersion as a 
Christian rite and ordinance. The poorly venti- 
iated cathedrals of the Middle Ages, crowded, 
packed and jammed, day after day, by a seething, 
sweltering, unwashed multitude, produced an at- 
mosphere so objectionable that it became necessary 
to enrich the air by offering incense, and so we 
have a revival of a beautiful Old Testament rite 
and ceremony. 

There has always been a great tendency in the 
history of the church to substitute form for force. 
This tendency gave birth to the twin doctrines of 


SACRAMENTS 133 


_“ baptismal regeneration” and the “real pres- 
ence.” In each case the symbol was enthroned 
and the vital truth clouded. 

The Ten Commandments are worth more than 
all the ceremonial and symbolism of the Old Testa- 
ment, and the Sermon on the Mount is worth more 
than all the sacraments and symbols of New Testa- 
ment times. 

I believe that the hour has come for a rearrange- 
ment of our sacraments. A sacrament is a cere- 
mony of initiation and the recognition of a new and 
sacred relationship. Christian rites and ceremonies 
should always stand at the beginning of a new ex- 
perience and register a new adjustment of human 
affairs. Our Christian sacraments ought to be the 
chosen symbols marking the supreme relationships 
of life. The supreme relationships of life are seven 
in number, namely: 

First, The Sacrament of Marriage.—In the fam- 
ily, the fireside and the home life we have the first 
monarchy and the first republic. A distinguished 
scholar from India recently remarked: ‘“ The 
greatest thing I have seen in England is the English 
home.” John Bright affirmed: “‘ The nation rests 
on the cottage.” Whatever tends to glorify and 
elevate the home is a distinct contribution to the 
advancement of a Christian civilization. I know 
of nothing more sacred than a marriage vow. Mar- 
riage is the first great sacrament. 

Second, The Sacrament of Childhood.—This is 


134 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


the sacrament of the cradle, the trundle bed and 
the nursery. Protestant Christianity has no dis- 
tinctive form for this sacrament. We sprinkle in- 
fants and we sprinkle adults—and we sometimes 
feel that the adult needs the rite of purification 
more than the infant. Who will invent or originate 
a beautiful ceremony of consecration for childhood 
and infancy? 

What a sacred relationship is created the mo- 
ment a child is born. The greatest event today 
will not, in all human probability, be recorded in 
any striking manner in our newspapers tomorrow 
—it will be the birth of a child! Margaret Fuller 
recorded in her diary on the birth of her first born 
these words: ‘‘I am the mother of an immortal 
being. May God be merciful to me! ” The great- 
est trinity on earth is expressed in three words, 
“‘ Father, Mother, Child.” 

Third, The Sacrament of Knowledge.—The sac- 
rament of knowledge finds its incarnation in the 
little red schoolhouse, and its higher manifestation 
in the academy, college, seminary and university. 
All these existed in germ in the old Jewish syna- 
gogue. God has so ordained that intellect and 
passion both begin to assert their power at the 
same period. When passion asserts itself in the 
body, conscience speaks in the soul. Conscience 
is a safe guide if properly enlightened, hence the 
sacrament of knowledge. 

The sacrament of knowledge means an un- 


SACRAMENTS 135 


chained and an unfettered intellect. Remember 
the oft-repeated exhortation of Demosthenes: ‘“ In 
God’s name think! ” What a miserable apology 
was that of Louis XIV. when dying: ‘“‘ I have done 
whatever my Church told me to do. I know 
nothing of Christian duty except as directed by my 
bishops. If I have done wrong, blame them.” 
Thank heaven, the world has passed beyond that. 

We have a new sacrament—a sacrament of 
knowledge. Plato recognized its sacredness when 
he exclaimed: “ Let us follow the argument where- 
soever it may lead us!” John Milton compre- 
hended its meaning when he said: “‘ Give me the 
liberty to know, to utter, to argue freely according 
to conscience, above all other liberties.” 

Fourth, The Sacrament of Service.—This sacra- 
ment involves the selection of a calling or the 
choice of a profession. It is a great sacrament, 
and here are its symbols—the farmer’s plow, the 
builder’s trowel, the author’s pen, the artist’s brush, 
the carpenter’s plane, the lawyer’s brief, the speak- 
er’s gavel, the schoolmaster’s book—and many 
more. All service is sacred. ‘‘ Sacred” and 
“secular”? are distinctions which belong to the 
past. A thing is right or it is wrong. There are 
no “ sacred ” desks or “ sacred ” places, only in so 
far as all good work is holy and every place sacred 
where men toil honestly or die heroically. 

Fifth, The Sacrament of Citizenship.—This is 
the sacrament of the ballot-box, the town-meeting, 


136 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


the city-hall, the parliament-building and senate- 
chamber. This includes, if need be, the soldier’s 
camp, where the sacrament of allegiance was first 
offered on the altar of patriotism. Here is our first 
great illustration from history—‘‘ Sacramentum ” 
—The Soldier’s Oath. Remember the prayer of 
quaint old Father Taylor, the sailor preacher. 
“‘ Grant, we pray Thee, O Lord, that our principal 
men may be men of principle.” An age of democ- 
racy places a tremendous emphasis on the vast im- 
portance of the sacrament of citizenship. The man 
who will sell his vote for a price, or neglect the 
duties, the sacred duties of citizenship, should have 
the sceptre of political power torn from his hand, 
and the crown of legal suffrage stricken from his 
brow. 

Sixth, The Sacrament of Social Intercourse.— 
This sacrament has for its symbol a table sur- 
rounded by a social circle. The sacrament of the 
Lord’s Supper was first a social gathering for a 
band of faithful disciples. It afterwards became a 
spiritual feast for a world-conquering church. I 
would not change its spiritual aspect, but I would 
ask you not to forget its original social character. 
The sacrament of the Lord’s Supper is the symbol 
of a new society—a society of regenerated individ- 
uals, through whom the world shall be regenerated. 
The symbol stands for the consecration of the 
social instinct. A Christian woman in the First 
Congregational Church of San Francisco, said to 


SACRAMENTS 137 


a young woman who was a stranger in the city: 
“* Come and see me in my own home.” In so far 
as that invitation was an expression of a genuine 
Christian sympathy for another who was equally 
a child of God with herself—in so far it was the 
fulfillment of the Master’s request, “‘ Do this in 
remembrance of Me.” Christianity, as a new so- 
cial organization, is built on the spiritual and social 
trinity of God—yourself—and—somebody else. 
To become a Christian is to recognize the principle 
of fellowship and association. No man is saved 
unless he is exercising a saving influence in the 
world. No saint ever travels heavenward in a pri- 
vate car. Social exclusiveness is anti-Christian. 
The man who lives for himself is lost. Christianity 
means a pure democracy, or it means nothing. It 
is the enthronement of unselfishness. 

Seventh, The Sacrament of the Soul.—This sac- 
rament stands for Conscience, Conviction, Confes- 
sion. The early Christians made a confession by 
baptism. In the beginning there was no church to 
“join,” so the convert made a confession which 
classed him with a new social circle. Men who 
confess the same conviction belong to each other. 
A confession vitalizes two souls—the man who 
makes it, and the man who witnesses it. When a 
new conviction dawns on your soul speak it out! 
You shall live by it and it must live through you. 
This is the sacrament of truth expressed through 
personality. 


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HYMNOLOGY 


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HYMNOLOGY 








pik WERE are 400,000 Christian hymns in 
“45 


ei ay the world. Of these there are four 

>) (@@ hundred which are universal favorites. 
Com Be) They are “the grand old hymns” of 
the church—the war songs of the saints in all the 
ages. Two hundred of these are to be found in 
every great denominational hymn-book. 

The hymn-book is the peculiar possession of 
Christianity. Infidelity has no hymns. Infidelity 
has nothing to sing about. Infidelity has not 
written a hymn in one thousand years. Infidel 
hymns are the mutilated songs of our Christian 
hymnology. 

Every great revival of religion has resulted in a 
revival of sacred song. For illustration, Moses and 
Miriam, Samuel and David, Wesley and White- 
field, Moody and Sankey, etc. Luther’s hymns 
gave to Germany a new language, enriched with 
high ideals. 

Isaac Watts is recognized as the father of 
English hymnology. He was eighteen years of age 
when he ventured to criticize the hymns which were 
then in popular use. Having been challenged 


141 


GP», 






142 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 





to produce ‘something better,’ he immediately 
wrote, ‘‘ Behold the Glories of the Lamb.” 

Every person has a favorite hymn: Tennyson 
preferred ‘‘ Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God AI- 
mighty.” Spurgeon loved ‘‘ There is a Fountain 
Filled with Blood.’”’ Beecher’s choice was “ Jesus, 
Lover of My Soul.” McKinley in his dying hour 
sang ‘“‘ Nearer, My God, to Thee.” Oliver Wendell 
Holmes thought ‘‘On Jordan’s Stormy Banks I 
Stand ” the sweetest and best; while Theodore 
Roosevelt had a decided leaning toward “ How 
Firm a Foundation, Ye Saints of the Lord.” 
That hymn sounds a good deal like the great 
Progressive. 

The six most popular hymns, by universal con- 
sent, are: (1) ‘‘ Rock of Ages,” (2) “ Jesus, Lover 
of My Soul,” (3) “ Abide with Me,” (4) “ All Hail 
the Power of Jesus’ Name,” (5) “ Nearer, My 
God, to Thee,” (6) ‘“‘ When I Survey the Wondrous 
Cross.” By the universal consensus of Christian 
opinion, the greatest hymn in the English tongue is 
“Rock of Ages.”’ ‘‘ Art Thou Weary? ” is the old- 
est among our popular hymns. It was written 
twelve hundred years ago, in a monastery, in the 
wildest part of Judza, by a saint called Stephanus. 
The best known and most used among all our 
hymns is Bishop Ken’s Doxology: “ Praise God 
from Whom All Blessings Flow.”’ 

Consider the importance of sacred song. A 
church without hymns would be as weak as an 


HYMNOLOGY 143 


army without martial music. When Frederick the 
Great heard his veterans singing Luther’s hymn, 
“A Mighty Fortress is Our God,” he exclaimed: 
“That means victory tomorrow! ” And it did. 
Give us the “ grand old hymns ” linked with the 
‘“‘ srand old tunes ” and we will move the world. 

Popular hymns hold their place in the affection 
and esteem of humanity because of a certain blend- 
ing of literary form and spiritual quality. Quality 
determines the destiny of a hymn or book. Men 
have been made famous by one book, one poem, 
one speech, one sentence, one act. Every line of 
Shakespeare flashes and flames-with quality. Em- 
erson’s Essays will be read for centuries; there is 
a great thought in every sentence. Young man, 
read Emerson. 

Quality wins. Charles Wesley wrote seven thou- 
sand hymns, but is best known by “ Jesus, Lover 
of My Soul.” Isaac Watts wrote seven hundred 
hymns, but his fame is secured by one: “‘ When I 
Survey the Wondrous Cross.” Philip Doddridge 
wrote four hundred hymns, but we would be willing 
to forego them all for ‘Oh, Happy Day That 
Fixed My Choice.” William Cowper wrote sixty- 
six hymns, but the saints persist in the use of 
“ There Is a Fountain Filled With Blood.” Bishop 
Heber is best known by his hymn, ‘“ From Green- 
land’s Icy Mountains,” but he wrote fifty-six 
others. Quality is the greatest word next to 
Character. 





144 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


The presence of the Holy Spirit in the Church 
today is attested by the fact that every great hymn 
is the literary expression of a great inspiration. 
Inspiration is not peculiar to any particular age. 
Bishop Heber wrote his great missionary hymn in 
twenty minutes. That beautiful hymn, “ Jesus, 
and Shall It Ever Be,” was written by a child ten 
years of age. Haydn, when last he heard his own 
great chorus, ‘“‘ The Heavens Are Telling,” ex- 
claimed: ‘“‘ Not mine, not mine. It came from 
above.” 

It is in the hymn-book where we find enthroned 
the spirit of Christian Unity. ‘There are many 
creeds, but only one religion. Christianity will yet 
unite all the religions of the world. Christianity 
is possessed by a spirit of unity. When the Par- 
liament of Religions was held in Chicago (and 
every creed known to man was represented) 
they united in repeating the Lord’s Prayer and 
sang together Newman’s great hymn, “ Lead, 
Kindly Light.” 

Heber, the Anglican, wrote ‘“ Holy, Holy, Holy, 
Lord God Almighty”; Toplady, the Calvinist, 
wrote “Rock of Ages”; Charles Wesley, the 
Methodist, wrote “ Jesus, Lover of My Soul”; 
Sarah Adams, the Unitarian, wrote ‘“‘ Nearer, My 
God, to Thee”; Whittier, the Quaker, wrote 
“Eternal Goodness ”; Faber, the Roman Catholic, 
wrote “Souls of Men, Why Will Ye Scatter? ”; 
Doddridge, the Congregationalist, wrote ‘“O 


HYMNOLOGY 145 


Happy Day”; John Fawcett, the Baptist, wrote 
“‘ Blest Be the Tie That Binds,” and Tennyson, the 
universal soul, wrote “ Crossing the Bar.” 

In the hymn-book you will find the grand old 
doctrines of the Church set to music. The heart 
of the Old Testament is the Book of Psalms. The 
heart of the New Testament is the Book of John. 
The heart of the church is the hymn-book. 

The young theologian, fresh from the seminary, 
who seeks to reconstruct the theology of the 
Church, should write a hymn—and persuade hu- 
manity to sing it. I am not afraid of a new the- 
ology. Every old theology was once new and every 
new theology will some day be old, but folks go on 
believing what they sing about. The doctrine of 
the Trinity is embedded in Bishop Ken’s Doxology, 
“‘ Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost.” 

The hymn-book is the best friend of the broken- 
hearted. How we would love these hymns if we 
knew their history. John Henry Newman, in 1833, 
sailing over the broad waters of that “ great sea 
toward the going down of the sun,” weary, tired, 
homesick, perplexed and discouraged, sat down in 
the cabin of the ship and wrote, “ Lead, Kindly 
Light.” William Cowper, a cloud resting on his 
mind and dreaming of suicide, asked a London 
hackdriver to take him to Blackfriars Bridge, that 
he might fling himself into the dark waters of the 
Thames. A London fog prevented the driver from 
finding the bridge and Wiliam Cowper returns to 


146 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


his room to compose the immortal lines: ‘‘ God 
Moves in a Mysterious Way.” 

It is in the hymn-book where we find enthroned 
the Personality of Jesus. 


“Jesus, the very thought of Thee 
With sweetness fills my breast; 
But sweeter far Thy face to see 
And in Thy presence rest.” 


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ASTROLOGY 


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XII 


ASTROLOGY 


At » a Spiritual interpretation to astronomy. 

wv, } For long before the science of astron- 

<) | omy existed men had guessed and won- 

feted and speculated about the influence of the 

stars on the destiny of man. And even today our 

popular form of speech bears the impact of an as- 

trological influence: “ Ill-starred ”—‘‘ Born under 
a lucky star.” 

The astrologer is strongly staged in history. 
Cesar never fought without consulting the oracle. 
Napoleon said to one of his generals in a heated 
conversation about his contemplated Russian cam- 
paign—‘ See that star! ”’—and he pointed to a 
shining orb in the evening sky. He believed in his 
star. No royal court in the fifteenth century was 
complete without its astrologer. The Wise Men 
from the East were astrologers. Scripture abounds 
with astrological references: “‘ There shall come a 


star out of Jacob.” 
* * * * * * * 





We know that the universe is a unit. It takesa 
whole universe to produce an ear of corn. From 


149 


150 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


top to bottom, from the lowest to the highest, every 
part, atom and speck of the universe is connected 
and related. Yonder in the sky are two bright, 
lonely stars—a billion miles apart. Separated? 
No! Those two silver points of light are two plan- 
etary worlds linked together by invisible threads 
of gravitation. No star exists by itself. No sun 
is self-sufficient. There is no schism in nature. 
The universe is a unit. The smallest speck feels 
the impact of the whole. | 

We know that man is the logical center of the 
universe. Man is the universe in miniature. Man, 
in the proportions of his physical personality, is a 
reflection of the material universe which surrounds 
him. Rivers of water are matched by rivers of 
blood. The forests of earth are not more real than 
the forests of hair on the body of man. There are — 
ridges of rock in the earth and ridges of bone in the 
body. The burning sun is matched by a beating 
heart. The nerve centers in man’s physical frame 
register currents of nervous vitality as real as the 
electrical currents of earth and sky. The universe 
surrounds man and focalizes in man. 

Man stands midway between the material and 
the spiritual. He is a blend and blending of both. 
Man is a fulfillment of all below him and a proph- 
ecy of all above him. The mineral realm is a 
prophecy of the animal. The animal is a prophecy 
of man’s physical form. If you knew all about 
man you would know all about nature. Man is the 


ASTROLOGY 151 


universe in germ and essence, model and miniature. 
Man is the center of all that surrounds him. 

We, therefore, address ourselves to the main 
question: ‘‘ Is man influenced by the stars? ” 

* * * * x * * 

(1) We know that men are influenced by Geo- 
graphical Location. The City of Rome touched 
the edge of a great continent and the kingdom born 
therein became imperial in its sweep and sway. 
The Hebrews lived in a little land surrounded by 
natural barriers—mountains on the north, deserts 
on the south, tablelands and an eccentric river on 
the east and a great mysterious sea on the west— 
and the children of Abraham became exclusive, 
self-sufficient and intolerant. Greece with her 
many islands gave birth to many independent 
states. Phoenicia inherited the eastern coast of 
“The Great Sea toward the going down of the 
sun ” and became the father of modern commerce. 
Egypt built her civilization on the banks of a great 
river beyond which there stretched unknown wilds, 
jungles and deserts and she became the mother of 
mysteries. Great Britain grew up into strength 
and fame upon a rock in mid-ocean and bears the 
reputation of having created the greatest naval 
force in history. The Arabs lived on the borders 
of the desert—no man’s land—and became the first 
anarchists of history:—his hand against every man 
and every man’s hand against his. The Chaldeans 
lived on the wide plains of the far east and became 


152 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


the first astrologers. Astrology was born on the 
plains of Chaldea. 

(2) We know that men are influenced by cli- 
mate. The human race may be divided and classi- 
fied by climatic conditions. Your ‘“ color ” is the 
measure of your original geographical nearness to 
or distance from the sun. White men, brown men, 
yellow men, copper-colored men, black men—The 
black man’s skin, tinted, tanned, and bronzed by 
ten thousand burning suns is a divine product and 
marks the predestinating influence of nature’s en- 
vironment. Booker T. Washington paid the Al- 
mighty a great compliment when he said that if he 
had the choice of living his life over again he would 
ask Destiny for a black skin and African blood. 

(3) We know that we are influenced by our so- 
cial environment. The cradle is the birthplace of 
temperament and character. You may travel 
across seas and continents but you will never get 
beyond the shadow of the first home which shel- 
tered you. You are a democrat! Why? I'll 
wager that your father was a democrat. You are 
an Episcopalian! I know the reason why—your 
dear old grandmother was a member of that splen- 
did church. The things which are “ in the blood ” 
are not to be reasoned with; they did not come in 
by the door of reason. 

I heard Sam. P. Jones, the famous Southern 
evangelist, at the original Chautauqua—Chau- 
tauqua, New York. He was talking about the 


ASTROLOGY 153 


influence of social environment to determine char- 
acter. He said to one of the listeners on the first 
row: “ Brother, you were born a Presbyterian and 
I was born a Methodist. If our parents had ex- 
changed infants when we were a week old, you 
would now be a Methodist and I would be a Pres- 
byterian.” The hand that rocks the cradle gives 
to character its first lunge. 

(4) We know that we are influenced by family 
traits. You are much mixed in your blood. Traces 
of a thousand personalities are to be found in your 
disposition and temperament. You had two par- 
ents, four grandparents and eight great grand- 
parents, and so on for untold generations. Did you 
ever study family resemblances? At five years of 
age the boy looks like his mother; at seven, he 
looks like his father; at fourteen he looks like his 
uncle; at eighteen he looks like his aunt; at twenty- 
five he looks like his grandfather and at thirty he 
begins to look like himself. 

(5) We know that we are influenced by our 
parents’ education, or their lack of it. It took 
seven generations of preachers to produce Ralph 
Waldo Emerson. Henry Ward Beecher said that 
his father, Lyman Beecher, for sheer brain power 
and intellectual equipment, was “ worth all the 
Beechers put together.” ‘‘ Blood will tell ’”—es- 
pecially in the transmission of intellectual qualities. 
It is more important to inherit education than to 
achieve it. Mental tendencies are transmitted. 


154. | THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


They may skip a generation, but they come to the 
surface again. 

(6) We know that we are influenced by our own 
peculiar, individual temperament. There are solid 
people, like the earth. There are fiery people, like 
the sun. There are changeable people, like the 
sky. There are mysterious people, like the air. 
There are unstable people, like the sea. There are 
war-like people who possess all the energy of Mars. 
The ancient philosopher propounded a great propo- 
sition when he said: ‘‘ Know Thyself.” 

(7) We know that we are influenced by the sea- 
sons of the year. Francis Bacon always had a sen- 
sation of sickness at the change of the moon. The 
divinest poetical inspirations came to Robert Burns 
in the spring. Some people have “hay fever ”’ 
every year, at the same time—and place. I have 
friends who are always affected by the east wind. 
Personally, all seasons are alike to me. I am as 
happy as a Christian Scientist ought to be. I like 
the snow, it is so white. I like the rain, it is so 
moist. I like the sun, it is so bright. I like the 
wind, it is so uncertain. I like the spring, it is so 
fragrant. I like the autumn, it is so wonderful. I 
like the winter, it is so solid. I like the summer, it 
is so balmy. I like the morning, it is so fresh. I 
like the afternoon, it is so moodful. I like the 
night, it is so glorious. JI never was conscious of 
the east wind. Nor did my bones ever register an 
approaching change in the atmosphere. 


ASTROLOGY 155 


(8) We know that we are influenced by the age 
in which we live. Every man is the prisoner of his 
own date. George Whitefield, the great evangelist, 
bought and sold slaves in order to ‘‘ advance ”’ the 
kingdom of God. Martin Luther, they say, was 
very fond of a glass of good strong beer. Abraham 
indulged in the luxury of a white lie. Solomon 
would have made a brilliant member of the Mor- 
mon church. If the wise man went to church 
occasionally with his one thousand wives and their 
children the preacher must have had the satisfac- 
tion of a “ full house.” 

To sum up in a few concluding thoughts: 

I. The Body of man reflects every planetary in- 
fluence. The sensitive, unborn body of a child, 
must, in some way, reflect the universal vibrations 
of the surrounding circle of worlds—planets, sun, 
stars and starry systems. This would seem to be 
reasonable and natural. 

Why has one person blue eyes; another, black 
eyes; another, grey eyes; still another, brown or 
hazel eyes? The answer seems to be that color is 
the measure of vibration and that, in each case, the 
vibrations differed when the child’s physical frame 
was being formed. Ten thousand unseen and un- 
known influences are registered in every human 
personality. We may not ignore the influence of 
the stars in creating a certain physical “ bent,” 
bend or tendency. 

II. The Mind of man reflects every social and 


156 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


intellectual influence. We are, each one of us, a 
part of all we have seen and met. Like the cha- 
meleon, we reflect the color of our environment. A 
child born in India and immediately transplanted 
to America would develop Anglo-Saxon traits and 
characteristics. There is nothing so sensitive as 
the mind of man. We take on more by uncon- 
scious imitation than we do by mental analysis 
and intellectual grasp. The human mind is a uni- 
versal mirror, and nothing is ever lost which finds 
a reflection in it. 

III. The Spirit of man reflects the mind of God. 
There is a power above the stars. This is the 
main fact of this essay. Spiritual power is the 
highest form of energy. The power of God is equal 
to every human emergency. Jesus holds the secret 
of power—“ all power is given unto me in heaven 
and in earth.” The influence of the planets is 
one-half of one per cent. Spiritual influence equals 
ninety-nine and one-half per cent. The Spirit of 
God is more than a match for heredity and 
environment. 

There is not an unlucky star in the sky. Every 
star is “lucky ” if you are in touch and in tune 
with the Infinite. There is not a star shining in 
the heavens which will not bring you blessing and 
benediction. 


ALT] 


WORRY 





XITI 
WORRY 


S)k ORRY reaches a mental climax on “ the 
7) day when everything goes wrong.” 
That is the day when your philosophy 
if of life breaks down. Such a tragedy 
calls for a mental reconstruction. Nervousness is 
a sign of nervelessness and indicates a mental dis- 
order rather than a physical disarrangement. The 
problem is psychological. ‘The disease is mental. 
The man has lost control of the reins of life’s forces 
because he has lost the focus of things. Wrong 
thinking is the mother of wrong doing. Right 
thinking is the secret of right living. Right reason- 
ing is the remedy of all ills which are human. 

Reason is a mental process which results in a 
certain type of mind. We read in the Great Book 
concerning those who are “spiritually minded,” 
“‘ carnally - minded,” ‘ high - minded,” ‘sober - 
minded,” ‘‘ feeble-minded,” ‘‘ single-minded,” and 
“* double-minded.”’ 

You can be whatever you have a mind to be. 
There is one person you must learn to manage— 
Yourself. You can train your eye to see—ask the 
artist. You can train your ear to hear—ask the 


159 





160 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


musician. You can train your voice to emphasize 
—ask the orator. You can-train your face to re- 
veal—ask the actor. You can train your nerve to 
obey—ask the tight-rope walker. Ten thousand 
admiring observers affirm that the tight-rope 
walker has “nerve.” All men have “nerve,” but 
this man has it in perfect control. 

Nerve-control is the secret of happiness. Don’t 
let your conscience play with you, or your digestive 
apparatus befuddle you, or your imagination be- 
guile you, or your own peculiar temperament de- 
ceive you—be master of yourself. Remember, 
there are two of you—yourself and your sub-self. 
Talk to yourself as a horseman talks to his horse— 
“Steady! Steady! ” Don’t use the whip on your 
own soul. Talk to yourself. 

(1) Remember, your own troubles always seem | 
the greatest. No tale of woe is quite as sad as 
yours. Destiny has reserved his choice bits of 
tribulations for you. The gods seem to have an 
evil eye on you. You were certainly born under an 
unlucky star. For no matter how much or how 
well you plan, ‘“‘ things go wrong,” and there are 
days when “ everything goes wrong.” This is your 
experience—and your neighbor’s—and mine. So 
say we all. There is no trouble like ours. 

But trouble is not peculiar to any class, calling 
or profession. Where there’s work, there’s worry 
—or the tendency to worry. The captain of the 
aeroplane, floating through the viewless atmos- 


WORRY 161 


phere of the skies, has discovered that there are 
“holes in the air.” I imagined that he would be 
“above ” such a thing as “ trouble,” but he is not. 
There are no exceptions, we all have our share of 
circumstantial misfits. William E. Gladstone, at 
the height of his fame, exclaims: ‘‘ I am leading a 
dog’s life.’ Dr. Charles F. Deems said that his 
conception of heaven was “‘ a place where there are 
no more letters to write.”’ Said Sir James Simpson, 
the famous English physician: ‘“‘ I am weary for a 
real jaunt, without a sick patient lying at the end 
of it.” 

There is no work, place or position in life with- 
out its ‘‘ worries,’’ annoyances, perplexities, anxie- 
ties and surprises. Plato said: “If we could 
examine the heart of a king, we would find it full 
of scars and black wounds.” Dr. Benjamin Rush, 
of Philadelphia, used to say to his medical stu- 
dents: ‘“‘ Young men, have two pockets, a small 
pocket, and a large pocket; a small pocket for your 
fees and a large pocket for your annoyances.” 
And this was half a century before every man could 
own a household medical encyclopedia and be “‘ his 
own physician.” 

According to the universal consensus of opinion 
there is only one profession without friction, con- 
cern and anxiety, and that is the preacher’s. A 
preacher’s work is simplicity itself. If he knows 
how to “ draw an inference,” “ draw a crowd,” and 
“draw his salary,” all the problems of existence 


162 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


are solved for him. Who would not be a preacher? 
And yet there are members of the ministerial pro- 
fession who look pale, worried, and ‘“ much trou- 
bled about many things.” ‘Trouble is the universal 
complaint. One would imagine that you might see 
a reflection of your own temperament in the dispo- 
sition of your child and laughing at his troubles, 
smile at your own; but no, you are only a child of 
a larger growth—your troubles are real, your 
child’s imaginary, and so the world moves on. 

(2) Consider how many people there are who 
carry great burdens and yet keep cool. There is a 
world of meaning in Emerson’s phrase: ‘‘ Energy is 
repose.”” Anybody can get excited, but the man 
who is sure of himself is the incarnation of com- 
posure. Wellington uttered his military behests to 
his subordinates in a tone which bordered on a 
whisper. If agitations swept his soul nobody ever 
knew it. The great man is the man who has be- 
come master of himself. When a candle is burning 
it yields light; when it is sputtering and buzzing it 
yields smoke. Smoke is wasted illumination. 

Nervousness is a sign of strength, but it is not 
strength. “It is a fundamental mistake to call 
vehemence and rigidity strength! A man is not 
strong who takes convulsion fits, though six men 
cannot hold him.” It took four men to hold Na- 
poleon in his death convulsions. There is a 
strength which is weakness. Worry has killed 
many a man, but it never made a man great. Re- 


WORRY 163 


pose is the master-sign of a great soul. Study 
repose. A man who lived to a great age was asked 
how he managed to do so. He replied: “I never 
ran when I could have walked, never walked when 
I could have stood, never stood when I could have 
sat, never sat when I could have lain.” 

(3) Remember that a man’s disposition means 
more than his occupation. ‘‘ Temper,” said Bishop 
Watson, “is nine-tenths of religion.” It is nine- 
tenths of everything. Temper is temperament. 
Your temperament is your way of looking at 
things. A blind soldier of Liverpool wore a placard 
on his bosom which read: 


TRAETIOR ai Wake ie eodte. Rede Be wo eae 6 
WM GETS Ui SL ieee anaes Te. 4 
CRild rena ices s eiitesrcke pe 

VOtAL GE. Terk cece Gee a tanks 15 


The music of the soldier’s hand-organ always 
brought a good offering. Sydney Smith, when clos- 
ing a letter to a friend, remarked, ‘‘ I have gout, 
asthma and seven other maladies, but otherwise I 
am very well.” The preacher who announced the 
hymn, “ Count Your Blessings One by One,” had 
a blind man in his congregation who muttered 
musingly, “I can’t do that, I should never get 
through.” There are sightless men who can see 
and full-orbed mortals who are blind. 

Large caution and small hope, phrenologically, 


164 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


produce a pessimist. When Mark Twain heard of 
the death of Matthew Arnold, he smilingly ob- 
served: ‘“ Poor Arnold, he will go to heaven and it 
will not please him.”” The American humorist was 
afraid that the great critic of English literature 
would not be entirely satisfied with the celestial 
embroideries of the “home over there.” Some 
folks are never satisfied—never surprised—never 
pleased — never gratified—never amused — never 
moved. They are blinded by the light, chilled by 
the breeze, tormented by the heat, annoyed by the 
rain and bored by the world. They are never so 
happy as when they are absolutely miserable. 
When they sing, they sigh. 

Dr. Samuel Johnson affirmed that the habit of 
looking on the bright side of life was better than 
‘“a thousand pounds a year,” and Robert Louis 
Stevenson, whom “death had by the heels” at 
every period of his life, went a step farther and 
said: “‘ To be happy is the first step toward being 
pious.” God grant us that peace of heart which is 
described by a gifted writer as “ the balance of a 
thousand forces in that center of all things—the 
human soul.” 

(4) Remember that the body bears a close rela- 
tionship to the brain. When the brain runs the 
body, the man is calm; when the body runs the 
brain, the man is nervous. Carlyle’s health gave 
out when he was writing an essay on the life of 
Oliver Cromwell and Frederick Maurice remarks: 


WORRY 165 


“Carlyle believed in God down to the time of 
Oliver Cromwell.” When Dr. J. W. Alexander 
was asked the question: ‘“‘ Do you enjoy the full 
assurance of faith? ” his answer was, “I think I 
do, except when the wind is from the east.” Draw- 
ing an illustration from my own experience, I may 
say, that when I used to solicit funds for a certain 
benevolent institution I made it a rule never to ask 
a man for a subscription when he was hungry. 
Napoleon, pointing to a certain spot on the map, 
remarked: ‘‘ Tomorrow at three o’clock I will have 
the enemy there, and when I get him there I will 
defeat him,” so in my financial pilgrimages I 
always planned to focus my guns at the right man 
and at the right time. All my experiences led me 
to believe that I could get more money out of a 
man after dinner than before. I was an “ after 
dinner ” solicitor. 

A wise man respects his own body. Every ship 
has a load line. When John Alexander Dowie 
worked twenty-four hours a day his visions were 
transformed into hallucinations. Even Christian 
Scientists must eat and sleep. 

One day’s rest in seven is a divine regulation, 
and if you do not see fit to avail yourself of the 
appointed period of recreation at proper intervals, 
the chances are, you will take your Sundays in a 
row. When the violinist occupies five minutes tun- 
ing up his instrument, the audience grows weary. 
We like music, but we are impatient of the fiddling 


166 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


process which seems necessary in order to revamp 
an instrument over which liquid notes may roll and 
through which divine vibration may pass exquis- 
itely, but the violinist is sane—his instrument must 
be kept in tune. The human body is a marvelous 
harp of a thousand strings. Keep your physical 
frame in tune. In tune with the infinite? Yes, but 
first of all in tune with yourself. Don’t kill your- 
self by overwork. If you can’t, you can’t and 
that’s an end to it. 

An English Cabinet Minister said to Charles 
Stewart Parnell: ‘‘ You have not answered my let- 
ter! ” Parnell replied: ‘I guess you will find it 
among that heap of unopened letters on yonder 
table.”” There were times when the Irish agitator 
had something better to do than answer letters— 
destiny hinged on other details. He was not con- 
ducting a mail order department. 

(5) Eliminate the things concerning which it is 
absolutely useless to worry. No man ever gave 
way beneath the burdens of today. There are two 
unlucky days—yesterday and tomorrow. The past 
is gone, and gone forever. Tomorrow has not yet 
arrived. Yesterday and tomorrow are sleeping 
dogs—let them lie. Sufficient unto the day is the 
evil thereof. Think much of an evil and it will find 
you. Let your motto be: ‘One day at a time.” 
Remember the words of Goethe: 


“ Tike the star 
That shines afar, 


WORRY 167 


Without haste, 
And without rest, 
Let each man wheel with steady sway, 
Round the task that rules the day, 
And do his best!” 


(6) Remember that your gravest trouble is 
always your present trouble; and your present 
trouble will remain with you until a new trouble 
arrives. One trouble drives out another trouble, 
which simply means that one thought can drive 
out another thought. The troubles which are big 
today will be little tomorrow. Remember your 
present anxious concern, no matter what the sub- 
ject or object of it may be, will surrender in the 
presence of a new bogie. Your fears are fooling 
you. Your imagination is betraying you. You are 
dealing with a shadow which has no substance. In 
a week you will have forgotten both the old worry 
and the new. When somebody insulted James 
Boswell and anger kindled in his face, Dr. John- 
son, the fine old English philosopher, expostulated 
with him, saying: “‘ Consider, sir, how insignificant 
this will appear to you twelve months hence! ” 
Put your “worries” in cold storage and study 
them in the calm light of a falling barometer. The 
ancient philosophers affirmed that there was only 
one sentence which was absolutely true; it was ex- 
pressed in these words: “ And this, too, shall pass 
away.” 

(7) Remember, too, that there are First-Class 


168 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


Troubles and Second-Class Troubles. If you are 
going to have worries, have big, large, fine, decent, 
respectable, aristocratic worries—worries which 
are worth worrying about. None of your cheap 
“two for a cent,” ‘‘ four in a box,” “ three for a 
quarter,” bargain-counter worries. Little people 
are easily recognizable—they brood over little 
troubles and hatch out little worries. Rescue life 
from its littleness. Near the desk of a business 
friend of mine I found a bill-board of suitable pro- 
portions installed, on which the captain of industry 
had tacked up bits of paper reminding him of 
“The Ten Most Important Things ” on which he 
was determined to concentrate his aerial during 
the current month. 

Save yourself for the big propositions. Remem- 
ber, too, that the great titanic-troubles of life come 
suddenly and without warning. There are icebergs 
in every sea. A great trouble calms a great soul. 
It was said of Carlyle that “‘ little troubles annoyed 
him, but great troubles calmed him.” When the 
domestic employed by John Stuart Miil threw 
the manuscript of the first volume of Carlyle’s 
“French Revolution ” into the fire (mistaking it 
for a mass of greasy waste paper), and the work, 
toil and labor of three years disappeared in smoke 
—Carlyle said to his weeping companion: ‘ Be 
calm, wife, be calm; we must not let Mill know 
how great our loss is.” There are two kinds of 
troubles—real and imaginary. Real troubles have 


WORRY 169 


to do with Life, Health and Character. ‘ Wor- 
ries ” are the big shadows of little troubles. 

(8) Don’t carry any burdens which you can en- 
gage somebody else to carry. In some supreme 
moment of inspiration, when, in an eloquent out- 
burst of thought, I forget myself and become dra- 
matic, I might, in the recklessness of my pulpit 
abandon, fall off that sacred ecclesiastical forum 
called the pulpit, and sustain injuries of a serious 
nature—but, my friends, I am not worrying about 
that. I carry an accident insurance policy. I 
might possibly gain more by floating off the plat- 
form than by retaining my equilibrium. It is no 
concern of mine. Let the insurance company 
worry about that! That’s what I pay them for. 

Insurance is scientific pre-worry—the only kind 
of worry which is scientific. If I were not a 
preacher I would be an insurance agent. They are 
the most abused benefactors of the race. Heaven 
bless them! An ounce of foresight is worth a ton 
of worry—full weight. Oliver Wendell Holmes hit 
the nail exactly on the top of the thought-dome, 
when he said: “‘ Don’t put your trust in money, but 
put your money in trust.” “If my life depended 
upon the solving of a problem in two minutes,” 
said a famous mathematician, “‘ I would take one 
minute of the two in determining how to do it.” 
Foresight—that’s the word. 

But you say: “‘Somebody must worry!” If I 
were not a preacher I would call that statement— 


170 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


a fib, a fabrication, a lie, but being a preacher I can 
simply affirm that your statement is a misstatement 
and as far from the truth as the Titanic was distant 
from the Great Banks of Newfoundland when the 
field of ice intervened. Somebody must think, 
somebody must plan, somebody must arrange, 
somebody must provide; but worry is the opposite 
of all these. Worry is nerve-fever. Worry is 
brain-friction. Worry is spinal-confusion. Worry 
is thought-anarchy. Worry is mind-fright. Worry 
is spiritual hysterics. When you begin to worry 
you cease to think. 

(9) The greatest degree that can be conferred is 
not “ D. D.,” but “ D. W.”—Don’t Worry. Don’t 
worry about your neatly attired children getting 
dirty; dirt is healthy. Don’t worry about the dust 
on the piano—dust is absolutely the finest product — 
of the material realm—there’s nothing finer. Don’t 
worry about the house being neat when the 
preacher calls—the chances are he won’t call. 
Don’t worry about what your neighbors think 
about you—they are not thinking about you. 
Don’t worry about how you look—only shallow 
people judge a man by what he has on. Don’t 
worry about your physical frame or bodily health 
—you may already have outlived your usefulness. 
Don’t worry about your soul—nothing worth sav- 
ing was ever lost. Don’t worry about your repu- 
tation—most people know what you are. 

But you ask: ‘“‘Dr. Gordon, are you never 


WORRY 171 





tempted to worry? ”—I am, indeed I am. And 
you inquire, ‘What do you do when you are 
tempted to worry? ’”—I preach on the subject. I 
prepare a ‘‘ Royal George” on “The Day When 
Everything Goes Wrong.” I never preached a ser- 
mon to myself that failed to fetch the audience. 
We are a good deal alike—my congregation and 
I. ... “But,” persists my parishioner, “ what 
would you do if—if—the door-bell were ringing— 
the telephone calling—the delivery man at the back 
gate—the dressmaker asking for instructions—the 
dog tearing the lace curtains—the children quatr- 
relling—and the pastry burning in the oven—What 
would you do? ”—Speaking with a due measure of 
composure and without the least trace of excite- 
ment, I (ah) I think I would concentrate my 
attention on the pastry hid away in the airtight 
compartments of the kitchen range. 

But you expostulate: ‘‘ Dear pastor, be serious, 
be serious! ”—Beloved parishioner, I can’t be seri- 
ous—I won’t be serious. The trouble is you are 
altogether too serious about a lot of things which 
are not worth being serious about. Give me a 
half-baked meal with a smile, rather than a superb 
banquet which would put the chef of our leading 
hotel to shame, if it must be served with tears of 
womanly anxiety and partaken of amid thunder- 
clouds of feminine concern. Be serious—not at the 
dinner table—thank you—it injures digestion and 
impedes mental relaxation. 


172 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


‘“‘ But,” you persist, “dear, dear pastor, what 
would you do?’ Well, there are only three things 
which one could do under such circumstances— 
swear, cry or laugh. It would hardly be decent for 
a Christian to swear; although sometimes we do 
inwardly, silently and subconsciously affirm and 
reaffirm certain mental convictions which perhaps 
it would not be wise or safe to vocalize or ar- 
ticulate. It would be childish to cry—tears are 
liquidized emotion—agony in solution. Think of 
weeping over a cook-stove. That particular 
kitchen utensil is hardly worthy of such a baptism 
of genuine feeling. Ah—Laugh! Laugh Laugh! 
That’s the only decent thing for a Christian to do. 
Laugh! Sir Walter Scott wrote: “I have great 
respect for a hearty laugh.” Lord Byron was lame 
—he limped and sighed. Sad creature! Sir Wal- 
ter Scott was lame—he limped and laughed. Glad 
creature! Learn to laugh. 

(10) You ought to thank God you have some- 
thing to be concerned about. Charles Kingsley 
was dealing out a wise philosophy when he said: 
“Thank God, every morning, when you get up, 
that you have something to do, that day, which 
must be done, whether you like it or not.” You 
ought to be willing to bear your share of the 
world’s burdens. Edward Everett Hale, of ‘‘ Lend 
a Hand” fame, advised: “ If your spirits are low, 
do something, and if you have been doing some- 
thing, do something else.”’ 


WORRY 173 


The remedies for the little worries which wear 
into shreds the fabric of the soul is in the en- 
thronement of certain great thoughts, which, like 
the snow-capped heights of Mount Lebanon, can be 
seen from every nook and corner of life’s broad 
domain. We must find what Bishop Westcott de- 
scribed as: “ Repose among eternal things,’”’ we 
must pillow our heads on such words as those of 
the Hebrew poet: “Surely it shall be well with 
them that fear God.” It is easy to die. It is hard 
to live. The secret of peace is in “ the power of an 
endless life.”” Remember the soul is unsinkable. 
Memorize the words of Charles F. Richardson: 


“If peace be in thy heart, 
The wildest winter storm is full of beauty, 
The midnight lightning flash but shows the 
path of duty, 
Each living creature tells some new and 
joyous story, 
The very trees and stones all cast a ray of 


glory, 
If peace be in thy heart.” 


I stood once in an old English cathedral. The 
dying glories of the setting sun kindled myriad 
forms of fiery beauty on every western window. 
For a thousand years worshipping humanity had 
stood beneath those arches. Under the resound- 
ing marbled floors there lay the coffined dust of 
bishops, rectors, priests, curators and choirmasters. 
One generation after another had come and gone 


174 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


and the shadows of decades, centuries and 
epochs lingered darkly in unfrequented cloisters 
and silent nooks. And I stood and thought of the 
meaning of the years. What mighty throngs had 
gathered here. What slender audiences had sat in 
loneliness when the enthusiasm of other days had 
passed away. And there had been broken-hearted 
priests who had mourned over the sad remnant of 
days more glorious, and choirmasters whose music 
had rolled through empty aisles and under echoing 
arches which canopied but a faithful few—but now 
all are gone, and memory reigns. These faithful 
ones sleep well. Their bones rest silently. And 
centuries have come and gone—are coming and 
going—why worry? The clan has become a king- 
dom, the kingdom an empire, the empire a conquer- 
ing race and the cross on the flag of a thousand 
splendid conflicts floats over all and God is in the 
heavens and all is well on earth. Why worry? 


“Serene, I fold my hands and wait; 
Nor care for wind, or tide, or sea; 
I rave no more, ’gainst Time and Fate, 
For lo! My own shall come to me.” 


AIV 


YOUTH 


mit ent 
ay) 
a Mi 





XIV 
YOUTH 


€N one of his novels, Disraeli places these 
26) strange words on the lips of a certain 
=,\ Character: “‘ Youth is a blunder, man- 

SEY hood is a struggle, and old age is a 
regret.” That is a falsehood. For those who live 
right and walk circumspectly, youth is opportunity, 
manhood is achievement, and old age is an holy 
memory. 

But life is such a swift, such a fast, such a rapid 
thing. Time moves more swiftly than the speediest 
lightning express train that ever rolled over tracks 
of steel. Before we have arrived we are gone. 
“Going! Going! Gone! ” as the auctioneer re- 
marks in clinching the last sale. There are only 
three milestones in life—Infancy, Youth, Old Age. 
Just about the time we have learned to live, a cer- 
tain conductor called Destiny announces the fact 
that we are approaching the grand central station 
of our earthly pilgrimage. 





“Take the speed of an arrow when shot from 
the bow; 

Itke the glance of a sunbeam on mountams 
of snow; 


177 


178 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


Like the lightning that flashes a moment and 
dies ; 

So swift moves the wheels of tume as tt 
flies.” 

Life has two ends. A beginning and an ending. 
A certain old preacher once said: ‘‘ At twenty we 
know everything—at seventy we know nothing.” 
Matured wisdom, like old wine, has a peculiar qual- 
ity. We know just a few things at seventy, but we 
know what we know. In his autobiography T. 
DeWitt Talmage remarks: “ It seems to me that 
the constructive period of a man’s life begins when 
he has passed fifty.”” Ernest Renan affirmed that 
“No man can write well until he is forty.” 

Experience has a message for inexperience. Jay 
Gould when he was a youth of twenty wrote a book 
of four hundred and twenty-five pages against 
“capital.” At fifty years of age and the possessor 
of one hundred million dollars, he made a persist- 
ent effort to buy up every copy of his book which 
was known to exist. He was afraid that the crude 
ideas penned at twenty might be quoted against 
him at seventy. Few men are wealthy enough to 
buy up the past. 

The bread of wisdom cannot be baked in a quick 
oven. The sweetest cream comes of quiet brows- 
ing. Every silver hair which crowns the brow of 
knowledge cost a thought. Henry Clay Trumbull 
received a package of cabinet photographs from a 
metropolitan artist. His face, which was lined with 


YOUTH 179 





the furrows of care as thickly as was General Sher- 
man’s wrinkled physiognomy, was made to appear 
as smooth and even as the face of a society belle. 
Trumbull observed in dismay: ‘“ That photog- 
rapher has taken out every wrinkle; send the pic- 
tures back; those wrinkles cost me too much.” 
Experience is a great teacher, but she asks a high 
price for every bit of knowledge which she sees fit 
to impart. Therefore the man of years has a wis- 
dom which he may reveal without the impoverish- 
ment of himself and to the enrichment of all those 
who will listen. 
x x * * x * * 

1—Jf I were twenty-one again I would give 
twenty minutes every day to special physical exer- 
cise. All things being equal, happiness depends on 
health, health depends on digestion, digestion de- 
pends on blood, the quality of blood depends on the 
circulation and the circulation of the blood depends 
on exercise. It is not much use saying anything, 
these days, unless you say it loud. That is what 
George Smith, of Minnesota University, is doing 
when he remarks: “ Personally, I would rather 
have for a father a robust burglar than a weak, 
narrow-chested, consumptive bishop.” Few con- 
sumptives ever live long enough to become bishops, 
however. Health is life’s first prize. 

Cultivate the exercises which are natural. It is 
natural to laugh, natural to sing, natural to yawn, 
natural to sneeze, natural to smile, natural to 


180 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


“stretch yourself,’ and exceedingly natural to 
walk. If you are not the happy possessor of an 
automobile, thank God—and walk. Rousseau re- 
marks: “ Walking has something which animates 
and stirs my ideas. I need a bodily motion to set 
my soul vibrating. The view of the country, the 
succession of pleasant prospects, the open air—all 
this frees my spirit, gives audacity to my thoughts, 
and throws me, as it were, into the immensity of 
things—I act as master of all Nature.” 

How natural it is to laugh. Cultivate a hearty 
laugh. Laughter is the thunder of optimism—let it 
roll through your physical system. When you feel 
that you must cry—laugh for a change. Laughter 
is like a ripple of health playing a merry-go-round 
for the body and brain. Few men die while laugh- 
ing. I heard, once, of a great evangelist who. 
‘laughed three times a day.” My friend said to 
him (for he occupied a room next to the evangelist 
in the hotel): “‘ What were you laughing about last 
night? I left you at fifteen minutes past ten and 
there was nobody in your room then. What were 
you laughing about?” ‘The evangelist answered: 
‘“‘ Friend, I laugh three times a day. I laugh after 
breakfast, I laugh after dinner, and I laugh just 
before I retire. I laugh systematically, I laugh 
scientifically, I laugh persistently. I like laughing. 
It is as medicine to my soul.” The things which we 
ought to do are the things which nature has made it 
easy for us todo. Laugh a little, sing a little, smile 


YOUTH 181 


much and walk a good deal. And remember that 
twenty minutes of exercise daily applied to such 
parts of the physical frame as need it the most will 
keep you in fair fighting trim, contribute to your 
joy and enthusiasm and probably add ten years to 
your natural life. 

2.—If I were twenty-one again I would study 
and strive to be an original thinker. At the age of 
ten we wonder, at twenty we imagine, at thirty we 
cogitate, at forty we think, at fifty we have ‘an 
idea or two,” at sixty we have two ideas and at 
seventy we are working on “one idea.” The 
sooner you get to that one idea the better. John 
Milton made an early discovery of himself. He 
“‘betook himself to linking fancy unto fancy, won- 
dering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no 
mortal ever dared to dream before.” 

A modern evangelist says, “ Empty your soul 
and God will fill it,” but I can give you better ad- 
vice than that, namely, “ Fiil your soul and God 
will set it on fire.” The man who goes wrong first 
of all thinks wrong. Evil is conceived in the 
womb of error. If you don’t think a mean thing 
you can’t say it. As a man thinketh in his heart 
so is he in his life. 

Be an original thinker. The only real difference 
between the stupid man and the man who is “ origi- 
nal” is the vital fact that one man thinks and the 
other does not. Do not “ take things for granted ” 
—take them for what they are worth. Think your 


182 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


way through prejudice, precedent, custom, conven- 
tion, style, fashion, and all the forms of modern 
folly and get at the heart of things. Socrates’ brain 
was not a whit better than yours, but he wore a 
thinking cap. Think your way in and you will 
have small difficulty in thinking your way out. 
Apply your mental X-rays to every unanswered 
question and every unsolved problem. Have faith 
in your own conclusions when, to the subject before 
you, you have applied every test known to reason, 
knowledge and experience. Be original. You can 
if you will try. 

3.—If I were twenty-one again I would steer my 
life by a few fundamental Convictions. The great 
convictions of the race are expressed in such words 
as God, Truth, Right, Love, Law and Immortality. 
Bulwer-Lytton places these suggestive words on the © 
lips of one of his literary characters: “ Come, and I 
will tell you the secret of my public life and that 
which explains all my failures; for in spite of my 
social position, I have failed—and this is the cause 
—I have lacked conviction.” A man without con- 
viction is as weak as a door hanging on its lower 
hinge. Luther was great because he crowned every 
great emergency with a great decision. In an age 
of uncertainty he knew what to do. When all 
others were in doubt he was in full possession of 
himself. A clear conviction is as a searchlight shin- 
ing through mountains of mist on a stormy, starless 
night. A strong thought rooted in the soil of the 


YOUTH 183 


brain lends fiber to the quality of a man’s think- 
ing. One great idea clearly defined and nobly en- 
throned is a blazing torch in the darkness. Have 
a conviction. 

4.—If I were twenty-one again I would begin life 
with a clear conviction concerning the sovereign 
value of my soul in the presence of God. When 
God contracted Himself within the narrow limits of 
flesh and blood He appeared on earth as the Christ. 
When sinful man, redeemed, regenerated, renewed, 
transformed—appears in heaven, expanded to the 
full proportions of his spiritual personality, he will 
stand forth in glory as—a Christ. This must be 
so: ‘‘ For, we shall be like him.” Every man has 
within him all the upward possibilities of the char- 
acter of Jesus and all the downward possibilities of 
the character of Judas. Jesus might have been a 
Judas. Judas might have been a Jesus. Jesus was, 
in a representative capacity, humanity at its best. 
Judas was, in a representative capacity, humanity 
at its worst. Where the first Adam fell the second 
Adam conquered. 

I would not bring Jesus down to the level of 
our common humanity, but I would bring human- 
ity up to the splendid heights of Jesus. The 
thought of Jesus lifts the race to its highest pin- 
nacle of power and prerogative. ‘‘ He thought it 
not robbery to be equal with God.” Splendid 
audacity! Heirs of God are we, and joint heirs 
with Jesus Christ. 


184 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


It takes the whole solar system to produce a 
strawberry and a whole God to create man. There 
are two thinkers in the Universe—God and man. 
Since I can think with God I am crowned with all 
the possibilities of universal thought. The power 
to think is without circumference or limitation. As 
Walt Whitman phrases it: “‘ Each one of us is in- 
evitable. Each one of us is limitless. Each one of 
us has his own right upon the earth. Each is here 
as divinely as any is here.” 

5.—If I were twenty-one again I would put qual- 
ity into every thought, word and deed. A Chris- 
tian is a person who does ordinary things in an ex- 
traordinary way. One day, twenty centuries ago, a 
carpenter built a cross. That cross has been lifted 
into the sacred incandescence of spiritual glory. It 
stands today and forever on the sky line of history. | 
The horizon of our civilization, encircling the earth, 
begins and ends with the Cross of Calvary. Its 
four great arms like shafts of living gold have shed 
a halo over art, music, drama and philosophy. It 
marks for us the most revered place on earth’s 
geography. It stands for us as the most distin- 
guishing landmark on the wrinkled surface of our 
rolling planet. It marks the dividing line between 
things ancient and modern and stands exactly at 
the center of history. Little thought the humble 
carpenter when he was building the cross that its 
rough boards, touched by the sacred form of the 
_ world’s Redeemer, would miraculously flame into 


YOUTH 185 


sign and symbol for the sacramental hosts of a 
world-conquering religion. 

6.—lf I were twenty-one again I would try to 
achieve one splendid success in some worthy realm 
of human effort. A taste of success in youth is as a 
taste of blood to a young lion. The man who has 
failed at everything is apt to be small, mean, bitter, 
quarrelsome, fussy, critical, over sensitive, and gen- 
erally lacking in faith in himself and everybody 
else. If I were a young man I would get into a new 
profession in a new country. This is the best day 
in the history of the world, and the United States is 
the best place for an ambitious young man. The 
Anglo-American race will lead the world. The 
largest gathering of our Anglo-American clans will 
be on the North American continent. If you can’t 
succeed here you would not succeed anywhere. 
This is one of history’s focal spots. 

7.—If I were twenty-one again I would crowd 
at least one kind act into every twenty-four hours. 
Arthur C. Benson, looking back on a prolonged 
period of sickness, said, ‘“‘ I cared nothing for my 
personal success, in that hour; nothing for any 
small position I had gained, nothing for the books 
I had written. What alone concerned me was the 
thought that I had helped some poor pilgrim and 
made his way straighter, easier and smoother.” 

Kindness is the velvet of social intercourse. 
Kindness is the oil in the cogs of life’s machinery. 
Kindness is the controlling spring which holds back 


186 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


the slamming door. Kindness is the burlap in the 
packing case of every day’s merchandise. Kind- 
ness is the color in the cathedral window which, 
woven into beautiful characters, shuts out the hid- 
eous sights of a world which is all too practical. 
Kindness is the carpet on life’s floor which deadens 
the sound of shuffling feet and adds warmth to 
silence. ‘ Kindness is the satin lining of the silver 
casket. Kindness is the plush on the chair. Kind- 
ness is the green grass near the hard pebbles of the 
road. Kindness is the touch of an angel’s hand. 
8.—If I were twenty-one again I would live in 
the light of every grand experience. Life has its 
sunbursts. There are moments which are sweet 
and days which are divine. There are events which 
crowd an eternity into an hour. There are experi- 
ences which cause the heavens to be opened and 
grant to the weary pilgrim a vision of the rainbow 
round about the throne. There are evenings when 
the stars seem to be living diamonds and there are 
nights when ‘“‘ Northern Lights” fling trembling 
vibrations like divine reflections across the sky. 
Thank God for every experience rich and rare. 
Live in the light of your experiences. Billy Bray, 
writing in the year 1823 of the wonderful conver- 
sion which he had experienced, remarked, “‘ Every- 
thing looked new to me, the people, the fields, the 
cattle, the trees—I was a new man in a new world.” 
9.—If I were twenty-one again I would have 
two or three choice friends among the older people. 


YOUTH 187 


They know the way. They have learned the mean- 
- ing of life. They can be depended upon in the hour 
of emergency. They have traveled over the same 
road. They yearn for the compliment of your con- 
fidence. They would like to be of service to you. 
They would like to count you among their few 
favorites. They would like to be of assistance to 
you in your plans and schemes. They would glory 
in your success and boast among their friends of 
your achievements. Cultivate the friendship of the 
folks who are older. 

10.—If I were twenty-one I would read the Four 
Gospels over once every twelve months. The heart 
of the Bible is the life of Jesus. Everything in the 
Old Testament grows into, and everything between 
“ Acts”? and the “ Revelation” grows out of the 
Four Gospels. These sweet, quaint gospel stories 
are written in a phraseology which is oriental and 
richly colored. Broad reading will lead to a proper 
interpretation. The great thoughts of the Master’s 
mind are set forth in incident, accident, event, con- 
versation and familiar dialogue. 

11.—Jf I were twenty-one again I would identify 
myself with some great unpopular cause. Courage 
is the finest test of character. If you think you are 
right, have your say. Be downright, upright and 
outright. Stand fast, stand firm, stand erect, stand 
alone. Stand with your back towards the past and 
with your face toward the unfoldings of God’s 
plan and purpose for humanity. Stand, and having 


188 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


done all, stand. First they will swear at you and 
then they will swear by you. Dare to differ. Dare 
to discuss. Dare to dispute. Dare to deny. Dare 
to defy. Be indifferent to the indifference of in- 
different men. Remember the brave words of Wil- 
liam Lloyd Garrison: ‘ I will not excuse, I will not 
equivocate, I will not retreat an inch, I will be 
heard.” To be first in advocating a noble cause is 
to be lonely, but to be thus lonely is to be lofty. I 
would rather stand alone than creep and crawl with 
the crowd. I would rather stand alone for God 
than, moping, move with the multitude. 

12.—I f I were twenty-one again I would spend a 
little time every day in the realm of the Beautiful. 
Luther always placed a flower on his desk before 
he began to write. His stormy nature needed the 
soothing influence of beauty’s-touch. We all need 
it. A beautiful poem, a sweet song, a lovely pic- 
ture, a rare literary gem,—the touch of the beauti- 
ful—once a day. The nearest practical approach 
to this for the average person is a well-ordered note 
book, carefully conned and reviewed. Most great 
men have kept and carried a note book. The 
things which we “ note” are the things which stay 
with us. Because the quotation is brief enough to 
be written in a note book—it is, therefore, easy of 
mental absorption. A line or two read over every 
day for a month will commit itself to memory. 
Did you ever try it? 

Take a poem of three or four verses—read it 


YOUTH 189 


over once every day with emphasis and fervor and 
at the end of four or five weeks the poem is men- 
tally yours. Try it. Crowd your brain with gems. 
Fill your soul with the beauty of a thousand lovely 
thoughts. Let the walls of your imagination be all 
alive with the living jewels of well-selected ideas. 
And do it while you are young, when the passing 
moments are yours—‘ While the evil days come 
not ’”—when the duties and responsibilities of life 
press so thick and hard that there does not seem to 
be a moment for soul culture or spiritual brooding. 

And this shall be the secret law of your heart in 
the collection and compilation of your literary 
“ bric-a-brac ”—-Whatever touches you—whatever 
appeals to you—whatever inspires you—whatever 
seems to you to be “ lovely ”—-whatever sets your 
soul on fire—this must be treasured in your note 
book. Words—poetic words—have a strange in- 
fluence upon the mind. Robert Burns wept every 
time he read these wonderful words from the pen of 
John the Beloved: ‘‘ They shall hunger no more, 
neither thirst any more; neither shall the sun light 
on them, nor any heat. For the Lamb which is in 
the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall 
lead them unto living fountains of water; and God 
shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.”” What 
a wonderful thought! What exquisite phrase- 
ology!—“ like bells at evening pealing.” 

The other day I picked up “ The Rosary ”—I 
had scarcely looked at it before—and it threw over 


190 THE WEIGHT OF A WORD 


' mea Strange, weird sensation. It has followed me 
like a breath of perfume ever since and I have 
pinned it to the first page of my best Bible: — 


“The hours I spent with thee, dear heart, 
Are as a string of pearls to me; 
I count them over, every one apart, 
My rosary; my rosary. 


“Each hour a pearl, each pearl a prayer, 
To still a heart in absence wrung; 
I tell each bead unto the end, and there 
A cross is hung! 


“O memories that bless and burn! 
O barren gain and bitter loss! 
I kiss each bead, and strive at last to learn 
To kiss the cross, ... to kiss the cross.” 


13.—If I were twenty-one again I would give the 
flower of my youth to Jesus Christ. I would begin 
life with Him. I would not wait until my hair had 
grown white in the service of sin and then offer to 
the world’s Redeemer the ashes of a misspent life 
—I would begin with Jesus. I would not try and 
understand all that He said or all that has been said 
about Him, I would just surrender my life to Him. 
Just that. I would take Him for my hero, my 
ideal, my peerless one, my soul’s partner, my secret 
fellow, my heart’s joy—nothing less than that. 
And I would have in my room, in a frame of gold, 
the wonderful face of Jesus. And I would have on 


YOUTH 191 


my dressing table something which would bring to 
mind and memory all the sweet hymns which I had 
ever heard sung about Jesus—‘* My Jesus As Thou 
Wilt ”—“ Sun of My Soul, Thou Saviour Dear ”— 
‘¢ Jesus, the Very Thought of Thee ”—“‘ Jesus, Thy 
Name I Love ”—* Jesus Shall Reign Where’er 
the Sun ”—“ Jesus, I My Cross Have Taken ”— 
“ Jesus, Saviour, Pilot Me,” and “ Jesus, Lover of 
My Soul ”—and in every hour of triumph, sorrow 
or perplexity I would sing them over to myself. I 
would create a real Jesus in the hidden realm of 
thought. I would crown Him with all the powers 
of my imagination, I would gaze on the hands 
which were pierced and I would caress them. I 
would look upon the feet that were torn and I 
would bless them. I would fix my soul’s vision on 
the brow that was once garlanded with the thorny 
crown of hate and for that blessed head I would 
weave a garland of light. 


“ Farewell, ye dreams of night; 

Jesus 1s mine. 

Lost in this dawning bright, 
Jesus 1s mine. 

All that my soul has tried 

Left but a dismal void; 

Jesus has satisfied ; 
Jesus 1s mine.” 


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